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THE 

LITTLE COLONEL STORIES 

(Trade Mark) 


r/7/?j 


Works of 

ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 



. The Little Colonel Series 

{Trade Mark, Reg. U. 8. Pat. Of.) 

Each one vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated 
The Little Colonel Stories . . . . • 

(Containing in one volume the three stories, 

“ The Little Colonel,” ” The Giant Scissors,” 
and ‘‘Two Little Knights of Kentucky.”) 
The Little Colonel’s House Party 
The Little Colonel’s Holidays 
The Little Colonel’s Hero . . . • 

The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 
The Little Colonel in Arizona 
The Little Colonel’s Christmas Vacation . 

The Little Colonel : Maid of Honor . 

The Little Colonel’s Knight Comes Riding 
Mary Ware : The Little Colonel’s Chum . 

Mary Ware in Texas . . . . • 

Mary Ware’s Promised Land . . . • 

The above 12 vols., hoxed, as a set 


$1.50 


1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

18.00 


The Little Colonel Good Times Book . . 1-50 

The Little Colonel Doll Book — First Series . l.oO 

The Little Colonel Doll Book — Second Series . l.oO 

Illustrated Holiday Editions 

Each one vol., small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printed 

in color 

The Little Colonel ...••• $l.-o 


The Giant Scissors 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky 

Big Brother .... 


1.25 

1.25 

1.25 


Cosy Corner Series 

Each one vol., thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated 
The Little Colonel . . . . • 

The Giant Scissors ...... 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky 

Big Brother '....... 

Ole Mammy’s Torment ..... 

The Story of Dago ..... 

Cicely ........ 

Aunt ’Liza’s Hero ...... 

The Quilt that Jack Built .... 

Flip’s ‘‘ Islands of Providence ”... 
Mildred’s Inheritance ..... 


$.50 

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.50 

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Other Books 

Joel : A Boy of Galilee ..... $1.50 

In the Desert of Waiting .... Net .50 

The Three Weavers . > . . . . Net .50 

Keeping Tryst . . . . . Net .50 

The Legend of the Bleedin.^j, Heart . . . Net .50 

The Rescue of the Princess VVinsome . . Net .50 

The Jester’s Sword ..... Net .50 

Asa Holmes ....... 1.00 

Travelers Five Along Life’s Highway . . 1.25 


THE PAGE COMPANY 

53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. 

















THE LITTLE COLONEL 


CHAPTER I. 

It was one of the prettiest places in all 
Kentucky where the Little Colonel stood that 
morning. She was reaching up on tiptoes, her 
eager little face pressed close against the iron 
bars of the great entrance gate that led to a 
fine old estate known as Locust.’’ 

A ragged little Scotch and Skye terrier stood 
on its hind feet beside her, thrusting his inquisi- 
tive nose between the bars, and wagging his 
tasselled tail in lively approval of the scene be- 
fore them. 

They were looking down a long avenue that 
stretched for nearly a quarter of a mile between 
rows of stately old locust-trees. 


2 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


At the far end they could see the white pil- 
lars of a large stone house gleaming through 
the Virginia creeper that nearly covered it. 
But they could not see the old Colonel in his 
big chair on the porch behind the cool screen 
of vines. 

At that very moment he had caught the rattle 
of wheels along the road, and had picked up 
his field-glass to see who was passing. It was 
only a coloured man jogging along in the heat 
and dust with a cart full of chicken-coops. 
The Colonel watched him drive up a lane that 
led to the back of the new hotel that had just 
been opened in this quiet country place. Then 
his glance fell on the two small strangers com- 
ing through his gate down the avenue toward 
him. One was the friskiest dog he had ever 
seen in his life. The other was a child he 
judged to be about five years old. 

Her shoes were covered with dust, and her 
white sunbonnet had slipped off and was hang- 
ing over her shoulders. A bunch of wild 
flowers she had gathered on the way hung 
limp and faded in her little warm hand. Her 
soft, light hair was cut as short as a boy’s. 

There was something strangely familiar 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


3 


about the child, especially in the erect, grace- 
ful way she walked. 

Old Colonel Lloyd was puzzled. He had 
lived all his life in Lloydsborough, and this was 
the first time he had ever failed to recognize 
one of the neighbours’ children. He knew 
every dog and horse, too, by sight if not by 
name. 

Living so far from the public road did not 
limit his knowledge of what was going on in 
the world. A powerful field-glass brought 
every passing object in plain view, while he 
•was saved all annoyance of noise and dust. 

** I ought to know that child as well as I 
know my own name,” he said to himself. 
‘‘ But the dog is a stranger in these parts. 
Liveliest thing I ever set eyes on ! They must 
have come from the hotel. Wonder what they 
want.” 

He carefully wiped the lens for a better 
view. When he looked again he saw that they 
evidently had not come to visit him. 

They had stopped half-way down the avenue, 
and climbed up on a rustic seat to rest. 

The dog sat motionless about two minutes, 


4 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


his red tongue hanging out as if he were com- 
pletely exhausted. 

Suddenly he gave a spring, and bounded 
away through the tall blue grass. He was 
back again in a moment, with a stick in his 
mouth. Standing up with his fore paws in 
the lap of his little mistress, he looked so wist- 
fully into her face that she could not refuse 
this invitation for a romp. 

The Colonel chuckled as they went tum- 
bling about in the grass to find the stick which 
the child repeatedly tossed away. 

He hitched his chair along to the other end 
of the porch as they kept getting farther away 
from the avenue. 

It had been many a long year since those old 
locust-trees had seen a sight like that. Chil- 
dren never played any more under their digni- 
fied shadows. 

Time had been (but they only whispered this 
among themselves on rare spring days like 
this) when the little feet chased each other up 
and down the long walk, as much at home as 
the pewees in the beeches. 

Suddenly the little maid stood up straight, 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 5 

and began to sniff the air, as if some delicious 
odour had blown across the lawn. 

“ Fritz,” she exclaimed, in delight, “ I ’mell 
’trawberries ! ” 

The Colonel, who could not hear the remark, 
wondered at the abrupt pause in the game. 
He understood it, however, when he saw them 
wading through the tall grass, straight to his 
strawberry bed. It was the pride of his heart, 
and the finest for miles around. The first ber- 
ries of the season had been picked only the 
day before. Those that now hung temptingly 
red on the vines he intended to send to his 
next neighbour, to prove his boasted claim of 
always raising the finest and earliest fruit. 

He did not propose to have his plans spoiled 
by these stray guests. Laying the field-glass 
in its accustomed place on the little table beside 
his chair, he picked up his hat and strode down 
the walk. 

Colonel Lloyd’s friends all said he looked 
like Napoleon, or rather like Napoleon might 
have looked had he been born and bred a Ken- 
tuckian, 

He made an imposing figure in his suit of 
white duck. 


6 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


The Colonel always wore white from May 
till October. 

There was a military precision about him, 
from his erect carriage to the cut of the little 
white goatee on his determined chin. 

No one looking into the firm lines of his 
resolute face could imagine him ever abandon- 
ing a purpose or being turned aside when he 
once formed an opinion. 

Most children were afraid of him. The 
darkies about the place shook in their shoes 
when he frowned. They had learned from ex- 
perience that “ole Marse Lloyd had a tigah of 
a tempah in him.” 

As he passed down the walk there were two 
mute witnesses to his old soldier life. A spur 
gleamed on his boot heel, for he had just re- 
turned from his morning ride, and his right 
sleeve hung empty. 

He had won his title bravely. He had given 
his only son and his strong right arm to the 
Southern cause. That had been nearly thirty 
years ago. 

He did not charge down on the enemy with 
his usual force this time. The little head, 
gleaming like sunshine in the strawberry patch. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


7 


reminded him so strongly of a little fellow who 
used to follow him everywhere, — Tom, the 
sturdiest, handsomest boy in the county, — 
Tom, whom he had been so proud of, whom he 
had so nearly worshipped. 

Looking at this fair head bent over the vines, 
!ie could almost forget that Tom had ever out- 
grown his babyhood, that he had shouldered a 
rifle and followed him to camp, a mere boy, to be 
shot down by a Yankee bullet in his first battle. 

The old Colonel could almost believe he had 
him back again, and that he stood in the midst 
of those old days the locusts sometimes whis- 
pered about. 

He could not hear the happiest of little voices 
that was just then saying, “ Oh, Fritz, isn’t you 
glad we came ? An’ isn’t you glad we’ve got a 
gran’fathah with such good ’trawberries ? ” 

It was hard for her to put the s before her 
consonants. 

As the Colonel came nearer she tossed an- 
other berry into the dog’s mouth. A twig 
snapped, and she raised a startled face toward 
him. 

Suh ? ” she said, timidly, for it seemed to 
her that the stern, piercing eyes had spoken. 


8 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


‘‘What are you doing liere, child?” he 
asked, in a voice so much kinder than his eyes 
that she regained her usual self-possession at 
once. 

“ Eatin’ ’trawberries,” she answered, coolly. 

“Who are you, anyway?” he exclaimed, 
much puzzled. As he asked the question his 
gaze happened to rest on the dog, who was 
peering at him through the ragged, elfish wisps 
of hair nearly covering its face, with eyes that 
were startlingly human. 

“ Teak when yo’ah ’poken to, Fritz,” she 
said, severely, at the same time popping an- 
other luscious berry into her mouth. 

Fritz obediently gave a long yelp. The Colo- 
nel smiled grimly. 

“ What’s your name? ” he asked, this time 
looking directly at her. 

“ Mothah calls me her baby,” was the soft- 
spoken reply, “ but papa an’ Mom Beck they 
calls me the Little Cun’l.” 

“ What under the sun do they call you that 
for?” he roared. 

“ ’Cause I’m so much like you,” was the 
startling answer. 


THE LITTLii COLONEL 


9 


“ Like me ! fairly gasped the Colonel. 
“ How are you like me ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, Fm got such a vile tempah, an^ I 
stamps my foot when I gets mad, an' gets all 
red in the face. An’ I hollahs at folks, an’ 
looks jus’ zis way.” 



She drew her face down and puckered her 
lips into such a sullen pout that it looked as 
if a thunder-storm had passed over it. The 
next instant she smiled up at him serenely. 

The Colonel laughed. ‘‘ What makes you 
think I am like that? ” he said. “ You never 
saw me before.” 


lO THE LITTLE COLONEL 

“ Yes, I have too,” she persisted. You’s 
a-hangin' in a gold frame over ou’ mantel.” 

Just then a clear, high voice was heard call- 
ing out in the road. 

The child started up in alarm. “ Oh, deah,” 
she exclaimed in dismay, at sight of the stains 
on her white dress, where she had been kneel- 
ing on the fruit, that’s Mom Beck. Now 
I’ll be tied up, and maybe put to bed for run- 
nin’ away again. But the berries is mighty 
nice,” she added, politely. “ Good mawnin’, 
suh. Fritz, we mus’ be goin’ now.” 

The voice was coming nearer. 

“ I’ll walk down to the gate with you,” said 
the Colonel, anxious to learn something more 
about his little guest. 

“ Oh, you’d bettah not, suh ! ” she cried in 
alarm. “ Mom Beck doesn’t like you a bit. 
She just hates you! She’s goin’ to give you 
a piece of her mind the next time she sees you. 
I heard her tell Aunt Nervy so.” 

There was as much real distress in the child’s 
voice as if she were telling him of a promised 
flogging. 

‘‘Lloyd! Aw, Lloy-eed!” 
again. 


the call game 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


II 


A neat-looking coloured woman glanced in 
at the gate as she was passing by, and then 
stood still in amazement. She had often found 
her little charge playing along the roadside or 
hiding behind trees, but she had never before 
known her to pass through any one’s gate. 

As the name came floating down to him 
through the clear air, a change came over the 
Colonel’s stem face. He stooped over the 
child. His hand trembled as he put it under 
her soft chin, and raised her eyes to his. 

Lloyd, Lloyd ! ” he repeated, in a puzzled 
way. ‘‘ Can it be possible ? There certainly 
is a wonderful resemblance. You have my 
little Tom’s hair, and only my baby Elizabeth 
ever had such hazel eyes.” 

He caught her up in his one arm, and strode 
on to the gate, where the coloured woman 
stood. 

“ Why, Becky, is that you ? ” he cried, rec- 
ognizing an old, trusted servant who had lived 
at Locust in his wife’s lifetime. 

Her only answer was a sullen nod. 

“ Whose child is this ? ” he asked, eagerly, 
without seeming to notice her defiant looks. 

Tell me if you can.” 


12 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


How can I tell you, suh,^’ she demanded, 
indignantly, when you have fo’bidden even 
her name to be spoken befo’ you ? ’’ 

A harsh look came into the Colonel’s eyes. 
He put the child hastily down, and pressed his 
lips together. 

'' Don’t tie my sunbonnet. Mom Beck,” she 
begged. Then she waved her hand with an 
engaging smile. 

“ Good-bye, suh,” she said, graciously. 
“ We’ve had a mighty nice time ! ” 

The Colonel took off his hat with his usual 
courtly bow, but he spoke no word in reply. 

When the last flutter of her dressi had dis- 
appeared around the bend of the road, he 
walked slowly back toward the house. 

Half-way down the long avenue where she 
had stopped to rest, he sat down on the same 
rustic seat. He could feel her soft little fingers 
resting on his neck, where they had lain when 
he carried her to the gate. 

A very un-Napoleonlike mist blurred his 
sight for a moment. It had been so long since 
such a touch had thrilled him, so long since any 
caress had been given him. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


13 


More than a score of years had gone by since 
Tom had been laid in a soldier’s grave, and the 
years that Elizabeth had been lost to him 
seemed almost a lifetime. 

And this was Elizabeth’s little daughter. 
Something very warm and sweet seemed to 
surge across his heart as he thought of the 
Little Colonel. He was glad, for a moment, 
that they called her that ; glad that his only 
grandchild looked enough like himself for 
others to see the resemblance. 

But the feeling passed as he remembered that 
his daughter had married against his wishes, 
and he had closed his doors for ever against 
her. 

The old bitterness came back redoubled in its 
force. 

The next instant he was stamping down the 
avenue, roaring for Walker, his body-servant, 
in such a tone that the cook’s advice was speed- 
ily taken : Bettah hump yo’self outen dis 

heah kitchen befo’ de ole tigah gits to lashin’ 
roun’ any pearter.’^ 


CHAPTER II. 

Mom Beck carried the ironing-board out of 
the hot kitchen, set the irons off the stove, and 
then tiptoed out to the side porch of the little 
cottage. 

Is yo’ head feelin’ any bettah, honey ? ” 
she said to the pretty, girlish-looking woman 
lying in the hammock. “ I promised to step 
up to the hotel this evenin’ to see one of the 
chambah-maids. I thought I’d take the Little 
Cun’l along with me if you was willin’. She’s 
always wild to play with Mrs. Wyford’s chil- 
dren up there.” 

‘‘ Yes, I’m better, Becky,” was the languid 
reply. Put a clean dress on Lloyd if you are 
going to take her out.” 

Mrs. Sherman closed her eyes again, think- 
ing gratefully, ‘‘ Dear, faithful old Becky ! 
What a comfort she has been all m.y life* first 

14 


TH|i little, colonel 


15 


as my nurse, and now as Lloyd's! She is 
worth her weight in gold I 

The afternoon shadows were stretching long 
across the grass when Mom Beck led the child 
up the green slope in front of the hotel. 

The Little Colonel had danced along so gaily 
with Fritz that her cheeks glowed like wild 
roses. She made a quaint little picture with 
such short sunny hair and dark eyes shining 
out from under the broad-brimmed white hat 
she wore. 

Several ladies who were sitting on the shady 
piazza, busy with their embroidery, noticed her 
admiringly. 

“ It’s Elizabeth Lloyd’s little daughter,” one 
of them explained. “ Don’t you remember 
what a scene there was some years ago when 
she married a New York man? Sherman, I 
believe, his name was. Jack Sherman. He was 
a splendid fellow, and enormt)usly wealthy. 
Nobody could say a word against him, except 
that he was a Northerner. That was enough 
for the old Colonel, though. He hates Yankees 
like poison. He stormed and swore, and for- 
bade Elizabeth ever coming in his sight again. 
He had her room locked up, and not a soul on 


1 6 THE LITTLE COLONEL 

the place ever dares mention her name in his 
hearing.’’ 

The Little Colonel sat down demurely on the 
piazza steps to wait for the children. The 
nurse had not finished dressing them for the 
evening. 

She amused herself by showing Fritz the 
pictures in an illustrated weekly. It was not 
long until she began to feel that the ladies were 
talking about her. She had lived among older 
people so entirely that her thoughts were much 
deeper than her baby speeches would lead one 
to suppose. 

She understood dimly, from what she had 
heard the servants say, that there was some 
trouble between her mother and grandfather. 
Now she heard it rehearsed from beginning to 
end. She could not understand what they 
meant by “ bank failures ” and unfortunate 
investments,” but she understood enough to 
know that her father had lost nearly all his 
money, and had gone West to make more. 

Mrs. Sherman had moved from their ele- 
gant New York home two weeks ago to this 
little cottage in Lloydsborough that her mother 
had left her. Instead of the houseful of 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 1 7 

servants they used to have, there was only 
faithful Mom Beck to do everything. 

There was something magnetic in the child’s 
eyes. 

Mrs. Wyford shrugged her shoulders un- 
easily as she caught their piercing gaze fixed 
on her. 

“ I do believe that little witch understood 
every word I said,” she exclaimed. 

“ Oh, certainly not,” was the reassuring an- 
swer. She’s such a little thing.” 

But she had heard it all, and understood 
enough to make her vaguely unhappy. Going 
home she did not frisk along with Fritz, but 
walked soberly by Mom Beck’s side, holding 
tight to the friendly black hand. 

‘‘ We’ll go through the woods,” said Mom 
Beck, lifting her over the fence. It’s not so 
long that way.” 

As they followed the narrow, straggling path 
into the cool dusk of the woods, she began to 
sing. The crooning chant was as mournful as 
a funeral dirge. 

“ The clouds hang heavy, an’ it’s gwine'to rain. 

Fa’well, my dyin* friends. 


l8' THE LITTLE COLONEL 

I’m gwine to lie in the silent tomb. 

Fa’well, my dyin’ friends.” 

A muffled little sob made her stop and look 
down in surprise. 

‘‘ Why, what’s the mattah, honey ? ” she ex- 
claimed. Did Emma Louise make you mad ? 
Or is you cryin’ ’cause you’re so ti’ed ? Come ! 
Ole Becky ’ll tote her baby the rest of the way.” 

She picked the light form up in her arms, 
and, pressing the troubled little face against her 
shoulder, resumed her walk and her song. 

“ It’s a world of trouble we’re travellin’ through. 

Fa’well, my dyin’ friends.” 

‘‘ Oh, don’t, Mom Beck,” sobbed the child, 
throwing her arms around the woman’s neck, 
and crying as though her heart would break. 

Land sakes, what is the mattah ? ” she 
asked, in alarm. She sat down on a mossy 
log, took off the white hat, and looked into the 
flushed, tearful face. 

‘‘ Oh, it makes me so lonesome when you 
sing that way,” wailed the Little Colonel. '' I 
just can’t ’tand it! Mom Beck, is my mothah’s 
heart all broken? Is that why she is sick so 
much, and will it kill her suah ’nuff ? ” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


19 


** Who’s been tellin’ you such nonsense?” 
asked the woman, sharply. 

“ Some ladies at the hotel were talkin’ about 
it. They said that gran’fathah didn’t love her 
any moah, an’ it was just a-killin’ her.” Mom 
Beck frowned fiercely. 

The child’s grief was so deep and intense 
that she did not know just how to quiet her. 
Then she said, decidedly, ‘‘ Well, if that’s all 
that’s a-troublin’ you, you can jus’ get down an’ 
walk home on yo’ own laigs. Yo’ mamma’s 
a-grievin’ ’cause^^o’ papa has to be away all the 
time. She’s all wo’n out, too, with the work 
of movin’, when she’s nevah been use to doin’ 
anything. But her, heart isn’t broke any 
moah’n my neck is.” 

The positive words' 'and the decided toss 
Mom Beck gave her head settled the matter 
for the Little Colonel. She wiped her eyes and 
stood up much relieved. 

** Don’t you nevah go to worryin’ ’bout what 
you heahs,” continued the woman. I tell you 
p’intedly you cyamt nevah b’lieve what you 
heahs.” 

‘‘ Why doesn’t gran’fathah love my 
mothah?” asked the child, as they came in 


70 THE LITTLE COLONEL 

Sight of the cottage. She had puzzled over the 
knotty problem all the way home. ‘‘ How 
can papas not love their little girls? ’’ 

“ ’Cause he’s stubbo’n,” was the unsatis- 
factory answer. “ All the Lloyds is. Yo’ 
mamma’s stubbo’n, an’ you’s stubbo’n — ” 

“ I’m not ! ” shrieked the Little Colonel, 
stamping her foot “ You sha’n’t call me 
names ! ” 

Then she saw a familiar white hand waving 
to her from the hammock, and she broke away 
from Mom Beck with very red cheeks and very 
bright eyes. 

Cuddled close in her mother’s arms, she had 
a queer feeling that she had grown a great deal 
older in that short afternoon. 

!^^aybe she had. For the first time in her 
little life she kept her troubles to herself, and 
did not once mention the thought that was 
uppermost in her mind. 

‘‘ Yo’ great-aunt Sally Tylah is cornin’ this 
mawnin’,” said Mom Beck, the day after their 
visit to the hotel. “ Do fo’ goodness’ sake 
keep yo’self clean. I’se got too many spring 
chickens to dress to think ’bout dressin’ you 
up again.” ' 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


21 


“ Did I evah see her befo’ ? ” questioned the 
Little Colonel. 

“ Why, yes, the day we moved heah. Don’t 
you know she came and stayed so long, and the 
rockah broke off the little white rockin’-chair 
when she sat down in it ? ” 

Oh, now I know ! ” laughed the child. 

She’s the big fat one with curls hangin’ 
round her yeahs like shavin’s. I don’t like her, 
Mom Beck. She keeps a-kissin’ me all the 
time, an’ a-’queezin’ me, an’ tellin’ me to sit on 
her lap an’ be a little lady. Mom Beck, I 
despise to be a little lady.” 

There was no answer to her last remark. 
Mom Beck had stepped into the pantry for 
more eggs for the cake she was making. 

“ Fritz,” said the Little Colonel, “ yo’ great- 
aunt Sally Tylah’s cornin’ this mawnin’, an’ if 
you don’t want to say ^ howdy ’ to her you’ll 
have to come with me.” 

A few minutes later a resolute little figure 
squeezed between the palings of the garden 
fence down by the gooseberry bushes. 

“ Now walk on your tiptoes, Fritz! ” com- 
manded the Little Colonel, else somebody 
will call us back.” . 


22 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


Mom Beck, busy with her extra baking, sup- 
posed she was with her mother on the shady, 
vine-covered porch. 

She would not have been singing quite so 
gaily if she could have seen half a mile up the 
road. 

The Little Colonel was sitting in the weeds 
by the railroad track, deliberately taking off 
her shoes and stockings. 

“ Just like a little niggah,’’ she said, delight- 
edly, as she stretched out her bare feet. Mom 
Beck says I ought to know bettah. But it does 
feel so good ! ’’ 

No telling how long she might have sat there 
enjoying the forbidden pleasure of dragging 
her rosy toes through the warm dust, if she had 
not heard a horse’s hoof-beats coming rapidly 
along. 

“ Fritz, it’s gran’fathah,” she whispered, in 
alarm, recognizing the erect figure of the rider 
in its spotless suit of white duck. 

‘‘ Sh ! lie down in the weeds, quick ! Lie 
down, I say ! ” 

They both made themselves as flat as possi- 
ble, and lay there panting with the exertion of 
keeping still. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


23 


Presently the Little Colonel raised her head 
cautiously. 

Oh, he’s gone down that lane! ” she ex- 
claimed. Now you can get up.” After a 
moment’s deliberation she asked, Fritz, would 
you rathah have some ’tra wherries an’ be tied 
up fo’ runnin’ away, or not be tied up and not 
have any of those nice tas’en ’tra wherries ? ” 


CHAPTER III. 


Two hours later, Colonel Lloyd, riding 
down the avenue under the locusts, was sur- 
prised by a novel sight on his stately front 
steps. 

Three little darkies and a big flop-eared 
hound were crouched on the bottom step, look- 
ing up at the Little Colonel, who sat just above 
them. 

She was industriously stirring something in 
an old rusty pan with a big, battered spoon. 

“ Now, May Lilly,” she ordered, speaking to 
the largest and blackest of the group, “ you 
run an' find some nice 'mooth pebbles to put 
in for raisins. Henry Clay, you go get me 
some moah sand. This is 'most too wet.” 

“ Here, you little pickaninnies ! ” roared the 
Colonel, as he recognized the cook’s children. 

What did I tell you about playing around 
3ere, tracking dirt all over my premises ? You 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 2C 

just chase back to the cabin where you be- 
long!’’ 

The sudden call startled Lloyd so that she 
dropped the pan, and the great mud pie turned 
upside down on the white steps. 

“Well, you’re a pretty sight ! ” said the 
Colonel, as he glanced with disgust from her 
soiled dress and muddy hands to her bare feet. 

He had been in a bad humour all mQrning. 
The sight of the steps covered with sand and 
muddy tracks gave him an excuse to give vent 
to his cross feelings. 

It was one of his theories that a little girl 
should always be kept as fresh and dainty as a 
flower. He had never seen his own little 
daughter in such a plight as this, and she had 
never been allowed to step outside of her own 
room without her shoes and stockings. 

“ What does your mother mean,” he cried, 
savagely, “ by letting you run barefooted 
around the country just like poor white 
trash? An’ what are you playing with low- 
flung niggers for? Haven’t you ever been 
taught any better ? I suppose it’s some of your 
father’s miserable Yankee notions.” 

May Lilly, peeping around the corner of the 


26 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


house, rolled her frightened eyes from one 
angry face to the 
other. The same 
temper that glared 
from the face of the 
man, sitting erect in 
his saddle, seemed to 
be burning in the 
eyes of the child 
who stood so 
defiantly be- 
fore him. 

The same 
kind of scowl 
drew their 




eyebrows together darkly. 
Don’t you talk that 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


27 


way to me/^ cried the Little Colonel, trembling 
with a wrath she did not know how to express. 

Suddenly she stooped, and snatching both 
hands full of mud from the overturned pie, 
flung it wildly over the spotless white coat. 

Colonel Lloyd gasi)Ld with astonishment. 
It was the first time in his life he had ever been 
openly defied. The next moment his anger 
gave way to amusement. 

By George ! ” he chuckled, admiringly. 

The little thing has got spirit, sure enough, 
‘^he’s a Lloyd through and through. So that’s 
why they call her the ‘ Little Colonel,’ is it? ” 

There was a tinge of pride in the look he 
gave her haughty little head and flashing eyes. 

“ There, there, child ! ” he said, soothingly. 
“ I didn’t mean to make you mad, when you 
were good enough to come and see me. It isn’t 
often I have a little lady like you to pay me a 
visit.” 

I didn’t come to see you, suh,” she an> 
swered, indignantly, as she started toward the 
gate. I came to see May Lilly. But I nevah 
would have come inside yo’ gate if I’d known 
you was goin’ to hollah at me an’ be so cross.” 

She was walking off with the air of an of- 


2b 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


fended queen, when the Colonel remembered 
that if he allowed her to go away in that mood 
she would probably never set foot on his 
grounds again. Her display of temper had 
interested him immensely. 

Now that he had laughed off his ill humour, 
he was anxious to see what other traits of char- 
acter she possessed. 

He wheeled his horse across the walk to bar 
her way, and quickly dismounted. 

'' Oh, now, wait a minute,” he said, in a 
coaxing tone. Don’t you want a nice big 
saucer of strawberries and cream before you 
go? Walker’s picking some now. And you 
haven’t seen my hothouse. It’s just full of the 
loveliest flowers you ever saw. You like roses, 
don’t you, and pinks and lilies and pansies ? ” 
He saw he had struck the right chord as 
soon as he mentioned the flowers. The sullen 
look vanished as if by magic. Her face changed 
as suddenly as an April day. 

‘‘ Oh, yes ! ” she cried, with a beaming 
smile. “ I loves ’m bettah than anything ! ” 
He tied his horse, and led the way to the 
conservatory. He opened the door for her to 
pass through, and then watched her closely to 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


29 


see what impression it would make on her. 
He had expected a delighted exclamation of 
surprise, for he had good reason to be proud 
of his rare plants. They were arranged with 
a true artist’s eye for colour and effect. 

She did not say a word for a moment, but 
drew a long breath, while the delicate pink in 
her cheeks deepened and her eyes lighted up. 
Then she began going slowly from flower to 
flower, laying her face against the cool, velvety 
purple of the pansies, touching the roses with 
her lips, and tilting the white lily-cups to look 
into their golden depths. 

As she passed from one to another as lightly 
as a butterfly miight have done, she began 
chanting in a happy undertone. 

Ever since she had learned to talk she had 
a quaint little way of singing to herself. All 
the names that pleased her fancy she strung 
together in a crooning melody of her own. 

There was no special tune. It sounded 
happy, although nearly always in a minor key. 

“ Oh, the jonquils an’ the lilies ! ” she sang. 
** All white an’ gold an’ yellow. Oh, they’re 
all a-smilin’ at me, an’ a-sayin’ howdy! 
howdy I ” 


30 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


She was so absorbed in her intense enjoy- 
ment that she forgot all about the old Colonel. 
She was wholly unconscious that he was watch- 
ing or listening. 

“ She really does love them/’ he thought, 
complacently. To see her face one would 
think she had found a fortune.” 

It was another bond between them. 

After awhile he took a small basket from 
the wall, and began to fill it with his choicest 
blooms. 

‘‘ You shall have these to take home,” he 
said. “ Now come into the house and get your 
strawberries.” 

She followed him reluctantly, turning back 
several times for one more long sniff of the 
delicious fragrance. 

She was not at all like the Colonel’s ideal of 
what a little girl should be, as she sat in one 
of the high, stiff chairs, enjoying her straw- 
berries. Her dusty little toes wriggled around 
in the curls on Fritz’s back, as she used him 
for a footstool. Her dress was draggled and 
dirty, and she kept leaning over to give the 
dog berries and cream from the spoon she was 
eating with herself. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


31 


He forgot all this, however, when she began 
to talk to him. 

‘‘ My great-aunt Sally Tylah is to ou’ house 
this mawninV' she announced, confidentially. 
** That’s why we came off. Do you know my 
Aunt Sally Tylah?” 

‘‘ Well, slightly ! ” chuckled the Colonel. 
‘‘ She was my wdfe’s half-sister. So you don’t 
like her, eh? Well, I don’t like her either.” 

He threw back his head and laughed heart- 
ily. The more the child talked the more enter- 
taining he found her. He did not remember 
when he had ever been so amused before as he 
was by this tiny counterpart of himself. 

When the last berry had vanished, she 
slipped down from the tall chair. 

‘‘ Do you ’pose it’s very late? ” she asked, in 
an anxious voice. ‘‘ Mom Beck will be cornin’ 
for me soon.” 

Yes, it is nearly noon,” he answered. “ It 
didn’t do much good to run away from your 
Aunt Tyler; she’ll see you after all.” 

‘‘ Well, she can’t ’queeze me an’ kiss me, 
’cause I’ve been naughty, an’ I’ll be put to bed 
like I was the othah day, just as soon as I get 
home. I ’most wish I was there now,” she 


32 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


sighed. It’s so fa’ an’ the sun’s so hot. I 
lost my sunbonnet when I was cornin’ heah, 
too.” 

Something in the tired, dirty face prompted 
the old Colonel to say, ‘‘ Well, my horse hasn’t 
been put away yet. I’ll take you home on 
Maggie Boy.” 

The next moment he repented making such 
an offer, thinking what the neighbours might 
say if they should meet him on the road with 
Elizabeth’s child in his arm. 

But it was too late. He could not unclasp 
the trusting little hand that was slipped in his. 
He could not cloud the happiness of the eager 
little face by retracting his promise. 

He swung himself into the saddle, with her 
in front. 

Then he put his one arm around her with 
a firm clasp, as he reached forward to take the 
bridle. 

“ You couldn’t take Fritz on behin’, could 
you?” she asked, anxiously. ‘‘He’s mighty 
ti’ed too.” 

“ No,” said the Colonel, with a laugh. 
“ Maggie Boy might object and throw us all 
off.” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 3^ 

Hugging her basket of flowers close in her 
arms, she leaned her head against him con- 
tentedly as they cantered down the avenue. 

Look ! ” whispered all the locusts, waving 
their hands to each other excitedly. ‘‘ Look ! 
The master has his own again. The dear old 
times are coming back to us.” 

“ How the trees blow ! ” exclaimed the child, 
looking up at the green arch overhead. See! 
They's all a-noddin’ to each othah.” 

‘‘ We’ll have to get my shoes an’ ’tockin’s,” 
she said, presently, when they were nearly 
home. They’re in that fence cawnah behin’ 
a log.” 

The Colonel obediently got down and handed 
them to her. As he mounted again he saw a 
carriage coming toward them. He recognized 
one of his nearest neighbours. Striking th^ 
astonished Maggie Boy with his spur, he 
turned her across the railroad track, down the 
steep embankment, and into an unfrequented 
lane. 

“ This road is just back of your garden,” he 
said. “ Can you get through the • fence if I 
take you there ? ” 

“That’s the way we came out,” was the 


34 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


answer. ‘‘ See that hole where the palin's are 
off?’’ 

Just as he was about to lift her down, she 
put one arm around his neck, and kissed him 
softly on the cheek. 

“ Good-bye, gran’fatha’,” she said, in her 
most winning way. “ I’ve had a mighty nice 
time.” Then she added, in a lower tone, ‘‘ Kuse 
me fo’ throwin’ mud on yo’ coat.” 

He held her close a moment, thinking noth- 
ing had ever before been half so sweet as the 
way she called him grandfather. 

From that moment his heart went out to her 
as it had to little Tom* and Elizabeth. It made 
no difference if her nzother had forfeited his 
love. It made no difference if Jack Sherman 
was her father, and that the two men heartily 
hated each other. 

It was his own little grandchild he held in 
his arms. 

She had sealed the relationship with a trust- 
ing kiss. 

“ Child,” he said, huskily, ‘‘ you will come 
and see me again, won’t you, no matter if they 
do tell you not to? You shall have all the 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 35 

flowers and berries you want, and you can ride 
Maggie Boy as often as you please/' 

She looked up into his face. It was very 
familiar to her. She had looked at his por- 
trait often, unconsciously recognizing a kindred 
spirit that she longed to know. 

Her ideas of grandfathers, gained from 
stories and observation, led her to class them 
with fairy godmothers. She had always 
wished for one. 

The day they moved to Lloydsborough, Lo- 
cust had been pointed out to her as her grand- 
father’s home. From that time on she slipped 
away with Fritz on every possible occasion to 
peer through the gate, hoping for a glimpse of 
him. 

“Yes, I’ll come suah!” she promised. “I 
likes you just lots, gran’fathah ! ” 

He watched her scramble through the hole 
in the fence. Then he turned his horse’s head 
slowly homeward. 

A scrap of white lying on the grass attracted 
his attention as he neared the gate. 

“ It’s the lost sunbonnet,” he said, with a 
smile. He carried it into the house, and hung 
it on the hat-rack in the wide front hall. 


36 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


“ Ole marse is crosser’n two sticks,” growled 
Walker to the cook at dinner. ‘‘ There ain’t no 
livin’ with him. What do you s’pose is the 
mattah? ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


Mom Beck was busy putting lunch on the 
table when the Little Colonel looked in at the 
kitchen door. 

So she did not see a little tramp, carrying 
her shoes in one hand, and a basket in the other, 
who paused there a moment. But when she 
took up the pan of beaten biscuit she was puz- 
zled to find that several were missing. 

“ It beats my time,’’ she said, aloud. “ The 
parrot couldn’t have reached them, an’ Lloyd 
an’ the dog have been in the pa’lah all mawnin’. 
Somethin’ has jus’ natch’ly done sperrited ’em 
away.” 

Fritz was gravely licking his lips, and the 
Little Colonel had her mouth full, when they 
suddenly made their appearance on the front 
porch. 

Aunt Sally Tyler gave a little shriek, and 
stopped rocking. 


37 


38 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


‘‘ Why, Lloyd Sherman ! ” gasped her 
mother, in dismay. ‘‘ Where have you been ? 
I thought you were with Becky all the time. 
I was sure I heard you singing out there a little 
while ago.” 

“ Fve been to see my gran’fathah,” said the 
child, speaking very fast. “ I made mud pies 
on his front ’teps, an’ we both of us got mad, 
an’ I throwed mud on him, an’ he gave me 
some ’trawberries an’ all these flowers, an’ 
brought me home on Maggie Boy.” 

She stopped out of breath. 

Mrs. Tyler and her niece exchanged as- 
tonished glances. 

‘‘ But, baby, how could you disgrace mother 
so by going up there looking like a dirty little 
beggar?” 

He didn’t care,” replied Lloyd, calmly. 
** He made me promise to come again, no 
mattah if you all did tell me not to.” 

Just then Becky announced that lunch was 
ready, and carried the child away to make her 
presentable. 

To Lloyd’s great surprise she was not put 
to bed, but was allowed to go to the table as 
soon as she was dressed. It was not long until 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 39 

she had told every detail of the morning’s ex- 
perience. 

While she was taking her afternoon nap, the 
two ladies sat out on the porch, gravely dis- 
cussing all she had told them. 

‘‘ It doesn’t seem right for me to allow her 
to go there,” said Mrs. Sherman, ‘‘ after the 
way papa has treated us. I can never forgive 
him for all the terrible things he has said about 
Jack, and I know Jack can never be friends 
with him on account of what he has said about 
me. He has been so harsh and unjust that I 
don’t want my little Lloyd to have anything to 
do with him. I wouldn’t for worlds have him 
think that I encouraged her going there.” 

“ Well, yes, I know,” answered her aunt, 
slowly. “ But there are some things to con- 
sider besides your pride, Elizabeth. There’s 
the child herself, you know. Now that Jack 
has lost so much, and your prospects are so 
uncertain, you ought to think of her interests. 
It would be a pity for Locust to go to strangers 
when it has been in your family for so many 
generations. That’s what it certainly will do 
unless something turns up to interfere. Old 
Juige Woodard told me himself that yout' 


40 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


father had made a will, leaving everything he 
owns to some medical institution. Imagine 
Locust being turned into a sanitarium or a 
training-school for nurses ! ” 

“ Dear old place ! ” said Mrs. Sherman, with 
tears in her eyes. “ No one ever had a happier 
childhood than I passed under these old locusts. 
Every tree seems like a friend. I would be 
glad for Lloyd to enjoy the place as I did.” 

“ Ed let her go as much as she pleases, Eliza- 
beth. She’s so much like the old Colonel that 
they ought to understand each other, and get 
along capitally. Who knows, it might end in 
you all making up some day.” 

Mrs. Sherman raised her head haughtily. 
‘‘ No, indeed. Aunt Sally. I can forgive and 
forget much, but you are greatly mistaken if 
you think I can go to such lengths as that. 
He closed his doors against me with a curse, 
for no reason on earth but that the man I 
loved was born north of the Mason and Dixon 
line. There never was a nobler man living 
than Jack, and papa would have seen it if he 
hadn’t deliberately shut, his eyes and refused to 
•look at him. He was just prejudiced and stub- 
born.” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


41 


Aunt Sally said nothing, but her thoughts 
took the shape of Mom Beck’s declaration, 

The Lloyds is all stubbo’n.” 

“ I wouldn’t go through his gate now if he 
got down on his knees and begged me,” con- 
tinued Elizabeth, hotly. 

It’s too bad,” exclaimed her aunt; '‘he 
was always so perfectly devoted to ' little 
daughter,’ as he used to call you. I don’t like 
him myself. We never could get along to- 
gether at all, because he is so high-strung and 
overbearing. But I know it would have made 
your poor mother mighty unhappy if she could 
have foreseen all this.” 

Elizabeth sat with the tears dropping down 
on her little white hands, as her aunt proceeded 
to work on her sympathies in every way she 
could think of. 

Presently Lloyd came out all fresh and rosy 
from her long nap, and went to play in the 
shade of the great beech-trees that guarded 
the cottage. 

" I never saw a child with such influence 
over animals,” said her mother, as Lloyd came 
around the house with the parrot perched 011 
the broom she was carrying. “ She’ll walk 


42 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


right up to any strange dog and make friends 
with it, no matter how savage-looking it is. 
And there’s Polly, so old and cross that she 
screams and scolds dreadfully if any of us go 
near her. But Lloyd dresses her up in doll’s 
clothes, puts paper bonnets on her, and makes 
her just as uncomfortable as she 
pleases. Look! that is one of 
her favourite amusements.” 

The Little Colonel squeezed 
the parrot into a tiny doll car- 
riage, and began 
to trundle it 
back and forth 
as fast as she 
could run. 

‘‘Ha! ha?” 

screamed the bird. “ Polly 
is a lady! Oh, Lordy! 

I’m so happy ! ” 

“ She caught that from the washerwoman,” 
laughed Mrs. Sherman. “ I should think the 
poor thing would be dizzy from whirling 
around so fast.” 

“ Quit that, chillun ; stop yo’ fussin’,” 
screamed Polly, as Lloyd grabbed her up and 




THE LITTLE COLONEL 


43 


began to pin a shawl around her neck. She 
clucked angrily, but never once attempted to 
snap at the dimpled fingers that squeezed her 
tight. Suddenly, as if her patience was com- 
pletely exhausted, she uttered a disdainful “ Oh, 
pshaw ! ’’ and flew up into an old cedar-tree. 

“ Mothah ! Polly won’t play with me any 
moah,” shrieked the child, flying into a rage. 
She stamped and scowled and grew red in the 
face. Then she began beating the trunk of the 
tree with the old broom she had been carrying. 

Did you ever see anything so much like the 
old Colonel ? ” said Mrs. Tyler, in astonish- 
ment. “ I wonder if she acted that way this 
morning.” 

“ I don’t doubt it at all,” answered Mrs. 
Sherman. “ She’ll be over it in just a moment. 
These little spells never last long.” 

Mrs. Sherman was right. In a few moments 
Lloyd came up the walk, singing. 

'' I wish you’d tell me a pink story,” she said, 
coaxingly, as she leaned against her mother’s 
knee. 

''Not now, dear; don’t you see t/\at I am 
busy talking to Aunt Sally? Run and ask 
Mom Beck for one.” 


44 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


What on earth does she mean by a pink 
story?” asked Mrs. Tyler. 

Oh, she is so fond of colours. She is al- 
ways asking for a pink or a blue or a white 
story. She wants everything in the story 
tinged with whatever colour she chooses, — 
dresses, parasols, flowers, sky, even the icing 
on the cakes and the paper on the walls.” 

“ What an odd little thing she is ! ” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Tyler. Isn’t she lots of com- 
pany for you ? ” 

She need not have asked that question if she 
could have seen them that evening, sitting to- 
gether in the early twilight. 

Lloyd was in her mother’s lap, leaning her 
head against her shoulder as they rocked slowly 
back and forth on the dark porch. 

There was an occasional rattle of wheels 
along the road, a twitter of sleepy birds, a dis- 
tant croaking of frogs. 

Mom Beck’s voice floated in from the 
kitchen, where she was stepping briskly around. 

“ Oh, the clouds hang heavy, an’ it’s gwine to rain. 

Fa’well, my dyin’ friends.” 

she sang. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 4$ 

Lloyd put her arms closer around her 
mother’s neck. 

“ Let’s talk about Papa Jack,” she said. 
“ What you ’pose he’s doin’ now, ’way out 
West.” 

Elizabeth, feeling like a tired, homesick child 
herself, held her close, and was comforted as 
she listened to the sweet little voice talking 
about the absent father. 

The moon came up after awhile, and 
streamed in through the vines of the porch. 
The hazel eyes slowly closed as Elizabeth be-, 
gan to hum an old-time negro lullaby. 

“ Wondah if- she’ll run away to-morrow,” 
whispered Mom' Beck, as she came out to carry 
her in the house. 

Who’d evah think now, lookin’ at her 
pretty, innocent face, that she could be so 
naughty ? Bless her little soul ! ” 

The kind old black face was laid lovingly a 
moment against the fair, soft cheek of the Little 
Colonel. Then she lifted her in her strong 
arms, and carried her gently away to bed. 


CHAPTER V. 


Summer lingers long among the Kentucky 
hills. Each passing day seemed fairer than the 
last to the Little Colonel, who had never before 
known anything of country life. 

Roses climbed up and almost hid the small 
white cottage. Red birds sang in the wood- 
bine. Squirrels chattered in the beeches. She 
was out-of-doors all day long. 

Sometimes she spent hours watching the ants 
carry away the sugar she sprinkled for them. 
Sometimes she caught flies for an old spider 
that had his den under the porch steps. 

‘‘ He is an ogah (ogre), she explained to 
Fritz. ‘‘ He’s bewitched me so’s I have to kill 
whole families of flies for him to eat.” 

She was always busy and always happy. 

Before June was half over it got to be a 
common occurrence for Walker to ride up to 
the gate on the Colonel’s horse. The excuse 
was always to have a passing word with Mom 
46 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


47 


Beck. But before he rode away, the Little 
Colonel was generally mounted in front of him. 
It was not long before she felt almost as much 
at home at Locust as she did at the cottage. 

The neighbours began to comment on it after 
awhile. ‘‘ He will surely make up with Eliza- 
beth at this rate,” they said. But at the end of 
the summer the father and daughter had not 
even had a passing glimpse of each other. 

One day, late in September, as the Little 
Colonel clattered up and down the hall with 
her grandfather’s spur buckled on her tiny foot, 
she called back over her shoulder : ‘‘ Papa 
Jack’s cornin’ home to-morrow.” 

The Colonel paid no attention. 

“ I say,” she repeated, Papa Jack’s cornin’ 
home to-morrow.” 

“ Well,” was the gruff response. Why 
couldn’t he stay where he was ? I suppose you 
won’t want to come here any more after he gets 
back.” 

‘‘No, I ’pose not,” she answered, so care- 
lessly that he was conscious of a very jealous 
feeling. 

“ Chilluns always like to stay with their 
fathahs when they’s nice as my Papa Jack is.” 


40 


THE LITTLE COLONET- 


The old man growled something behind his 

n ews paper 
that she did 
not hear. He 
. would have 
been glad to 
choke this 
man who had 
come between 
him and his 
only child, and 
he hated him 
worse than 
ever when he 
realized what 
a large place 
he held in 
Lloyd’s little 
heart. 

She did not go back 
to Locust the next day, 
nor for weeks after that. 

She was up almost as 
soon as Mom Beck next 
morning, thoroughly enjoying the bustle of 
preparation. 



THE LITTLE COLONEL 


49 


She had a finger in everything, from polish- 
ing the silver to turning the ice-cream freezer. 

Even Fritz was scrubbed till he came out of 
his bath with his curls all white and shining. 
He was proud of himself, from his silky bangs 
to the tip of his tasselled tail. 

Just before train-time, the Little Colonel 
stuck his collar full of late pink roses, and stood 
back to admire the effect. Her mother came 
to the door, dressed for the evening. She wore 
an airy-looking dress of the palest, softest blue. 
There was a white rosebud caught in her dark* 
, hair. A bright colour, as fresh as Lloyd’s own, 
tinged her cheeks, and the glad light in her 
brown eyes made them unusually brilliant. 

Lloyd jumped up and threw her arms about 
her. ‘‘ Oh, nrohah,” she cried, you an’ Fritz 
is .fo bu’ful!” 

The engine whistled up the road at the cross- 
ing. Come, we have just time to get to the 
station,” said Mrs. Sherman, holding out her 
hand. 

’They went through the gate, down the nar- 
row path, that ran beside the dusty road. The 
train had- just- stopped* in- -front of tfie little 
station when they reached it. 


<IHE LlTtLE COLONEI 


SO 


A number of gentlemen, coming out from 
the city to spend Sunday at the hotel, came 
down the steps. 

They glanced admiringly from the beautiful, 
girlish face of the mother to the happy child 
dancing impatiently up and down at her side. 
They could not help smiling at Fritz as he 
frisked about in his imposing rose-collar. 

“ Why, where’s Papa Jack ? ” asked Lloyd, 
in distress, as passenger after passenger stepped 
down. ‘‘ Isn’t he goin’ to come ? ” 

• The tears were beginning to gather in her 
eyes, when she saw him in the door of the car ; 
not hurrying along to meet them as he always 
used to come, so full of life and vigour, but 
leaning heavily on the porter’s shoulder, look- 
ing very pale and weak. 

Lloyd looked up at her mother, from whose 
face every particle of colour had faded. Mrs. 
Sherman gave a low, frightened cry as she 
sprang forward to me^t him. 

Oh, Jack! what is the matter? What has 
happened to you ? ” she exclaimed, as he took 
her in his arms. The train had gone on, and 
they were left alone oh the platform. 

‘‘ Just a little sick spell,” he answered, with 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


51 


a smile. ** We had a fire out at the mines, 
and I overtaxed myself some. Fve had fever 
ever since, and it has pulled me down consider- 
ably.” 

“ I must send somebody for a carriage,” she 
said, looking around anxiously. 

‘‘ No, indeed,” he protested. “ It’s only a 
few steps; I can walk it as well as not. The 
sight of you and the baby has made me stronger 
already.” 

He sent a coloured boy on ahead with his 
valise, and they walked slowly up the path, 
with Fritz running wildly around them, bark- 
ing a glad welcome. 

‘‘ How sweet and homelike it all looks ! ” 
he said, as he stepped into the hall, where Mom 
Beck was just lighting the lamps. Then he 
sank down on the couch, completely exhausted, 
and wearily closed his eyes. 

The Little Colonel looked at his white face 
in alarm. All the gladness seemed to have been 
taken out of the home-coming. 

Her mother was busy trying to make him 
comfortable, and paid no attention to the dis- 
consolate little figure wandering about the 


52 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


house alone. Mom Beck had gone for the 
doctor. 

The supper was drying up in the warming- 
oven. The ice-cream was melting in the 
freezer. Nobody seemed to care. There was 
no one to notice the pretty table with its array 
of flowers and cut glass and silver. 

When Mom Beck came back, Lloyd ate all 
by herself, and then sat out on the kitchen door- 
step while the doctor made his visit. 

She was just going mournfully off to bed 
with an aching lump in her throat, when her 
mother opened the door. 

Come tell papa good night,” she said. 

He*s lots better now.” 

She climbed up on the bed beside him, and 
buried her face on his shoulder to hide the tears 
she had been trying to keep back all evening. 

‘‘ How the child has grown ! ” he exclaimed. 
‘‘ Do you notice, Beth, how much plainer she 
talks? She does not seem at all like the baby 
I left last spring. Well, she’ll soon be six years 
old, — a real little woman. She’ll be papa's 
little comfort.” 

The ache in her throat was all gone after 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 53 

that. She romped with Fritz all the time she 
was undressing. 

Papa Jack was worse next morning'. It was 
hard for Lloyd to keep quiet when the late 
September sunshine was so gloriously yellow 
and the whole outdoors seemed so wide awake. 

She tiptoed out of the darkened room where 
her father lay, and swung on the front gate um 
til she saw the doctor riding up on his bay 
horse. It seemed to her that the day never 
would pass. 

Mom Beck, rustling around in her best dress 
ready for church, that afternoon, took pity on 
the lonesome child. 

“ Go get yo’ best hat, honey,’' she said, “ an’ 
I’ll take you with me.” 

It was one of the Little Colonel’s greatest 
pleasures to be allowed to go to the coloured 
church. 

She loved to listen to the singing, and would 
sit perfectly motionless while the sweet voices 
blended like the chords of some mighty organ 
as they sent the old hymns rolling heavenward. 

Service had already commenced by the time 
they took their seats. Nearly everybody in the 
congregation was swaying back and forth in 


54 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


time to the mournful melody of Sinnah, 
sinnah, where’s you boun’ ? ” 

One old woman across the aisle began clap- 
ping her hands together, and repeated in a 
sing-song tone, “ Oh, Lordy ! I’m so happy ! ” 

‘‘ Why, that’s just what our parrot says,” 
exclaimed Lloyd, so much surprised that she 
spoke right out loud. 

Mom Beck put her handkerchief over her 
mouth, and a general smile went around. 

After that the child was very quiet until the 
time came to take the collection. She always 
enjoyed this part of the service more than any- 
thing else. Instead of passing baskets around, 
each person was invited to come forward and 
lay his offering on the table. 

Woolly heads wagged, and many feet kept 
time to the tune : 

* Oh ! I’se boun’ to git to glory. 

Hallelujah ! Le’ me go 1 ” 

The Little Colonel proudly marched up with 
Mom Beck’s contribution, and then watched the 
others pass down the aisle. One young girl in 
a gorgeously trimmed dress paraded up to the 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


55 


table several times, singing at the top of her 
voice. 

“ Look at that good-fo’-nothin’ 

Lize Richa’ds,” whispered Mom 
Beck’s nearest neighbour, with a 
sniff. “ She done got a nickel 
changed into pennies so she could 
ma’ch up an’ show herself five 
times.” 

It was nearly sundown 
when they started home. 

A ' tall coloured man, 
wearing a high silk hat 
and carrying a gold- 
headed cane, joined them 
on the way out. 

Howdy, S i s t a h 
Po’tah,” he said, gravely 
shaking hands. That 
was a fine disco’se we 
had the pleasuah of 



listenin’ to this evenin’.” 

‘‘ ’Deed it was, Brothah Fostah,” she an- 
swered. “ How’s all up yo’ way ? ” 

The Little Colonel, running on after a 
couple of white butterflies, paid no attention 


56 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


to the conversation until she heard her own 
name mentioned. 

‘‘ Mistah Sherman came home last night, I 
heah.’^ 

‘‘ Yes, but not to stay long, I’m afraid. He’s 
a mighty sick man, if I’m any judge. He’s 
down with fevah, — regulah typhoid. He 
doesn’t look to me like he’s long for this world. 
What’s to become of poah Miss ’Lizabeth if 
that’s the case, is moah’n I know.” 

“ We mustn’t cross the bridge till we come 
to it, Sistah Po’tah,” he suggested. 

I know that ; but a lookin’-glass broke 
yeste’day mawnin’ when nobody had put fingah 
on it. An’ his picture fell down ofT the wall 
while I was sweepin’ the pa’lah. Pete said his 
dawg done howl all night last night, an’ I’ve 
dremp three times hand runnin’ ’bout muddy 
watah.” 

Mom Beck felt a little hand clutch her skirts, 
and turned to see a frightened little face looking 
anxiously up at her. 

‘‘ Now what’s the mattah with you, honey? ” 
she asked. “ I’m only a-tellin’ Mistah Fostah 
about some. silly old signs my mammy used to 
believe in. But they don’t mean nothin’ at alk’^ 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


57 


Lloyd couldn’t^ have told why she was un- 
happy. She had not understood all that Mom 
Beck had said, but her sensitive little mind was 
shadowed by a foreboding* of trouble. 

The shadow deepened as the days passed. 
Papa Jack got worse instead of better. There 
were times when he did not recognize any one, 
and talked wildly of things that had happened 
out at the mines. 

All the long, beautiful October went by, and 
still he lay in the darkened room. Lloyd wan- 
dered listlessly from place to place, trying to 
keep out of the way, and to make as little trou- 
ble as possible. 

‘‘ Pm a real little woman now,’^ she repeated, 
proudly, whenever she was allowed to pound 
ice or carry fresh water. ‘‘ Pm' papa’s little 
comfort.” 

One cold, frosty evening she was standing in 
the hall, wLen the doctor came out of the room 
and began to put on his overcoat. 

Her mother followed him to take his direc- 
tions for the night. 

He was an old friend of the family’s. Eliza- 
beth had climbed on his knees many a time 
when she was a child. She loved this faithful, 


g8 THE LITTLE COLONEL 

white-haired old doctor almost as dearly as 
she had her father. 

‘‘ My daughter/’ he said, kindly, laying his 
hand on her shoulder, “ you are wearing your- 
self out, and will be down yourself if you are 
riot careful. You must have a professional 
nurse. No telling how long this is going to 
last. As soon as Jack is able to travel you must 
have a change of climate.” 

Her lips trembled. We can’t afford it, doc- 
tor,” she said. “ Jack has been too sick from 
the very first to talk about business. He always 
said a woman should not be worried with such 
matters, anyway. I don’t know what arrange- 
ments he has made out West. For all I know, 
the little I have in my purse now may be all that 
stands between us and the poorhouse.” 

The doctor drew on his gloves. 

‘‘ Why don’t you tell your father how mat- 
ters are? ” he asked. 

Then he saw he had ventured a step too far. 

“ I believe Jack would rather die than take 
help from his hands,” she answered, drawing 
herself up proudly. Her eyes flashed. “ I 
would, too, as far as I am concerned myself.” 

Then a tender look came over her pale, tired 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 59 

face, as she added, gently, “ But Td do any- 
thing on earth to help Jack get well.” 

The doctor cleared his throat vigorously, 
and bolted out with a gruff good night. As 
he rode past Locust, he took solid satisfaction 
in shaking his fist at the light in an upper 
window. 


CHAPTER VI. 


The Little Colonel followed her mother to 
the dining-room, but paused on the threshold 
as she saw her throw herself into Mom Beck’s 
arms and burst out crying. 

“ Oh, Becky ! ” she sobbed, what is going 
to become of us? The doctor says we must 
have a professional nurse, and we must go 
away from here soon. There are only a few 
dollars left in my purse, and I don’t know what 
we’ll do when they are gone. I just kmzv 
Jack is going to die, and then I’ll die, too, and 
then what will become of the baby? ” 

Mom Beck sat down, and took the trembling 
form in her arms. 

“ There, there ! ” she said, soothingly, ‘‘ have 
yo’ cry out. It will do you good. Poah chile ! 
all wo’n out with watchin’ an’ worry. Ne’m 
min’, ole Becky is as good as a dozen nuhses 
yet. I’ll get Judy to come up an’ look aftah 
6o 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


6i 


the kirclien. An’ nobody ain’ gwine to die, 
honey. Don’t you go to slayin’ all you’s got 
befo’ you’s called on to do it. The good Lawd 
is goin’ to pahvide fo’ us same as Abraham.” 

The last Sabbath’s sermon was still fresh in 
her mind. 

“ If we only hold out faithful, there’s boun’ 
to be a ram caught by the hawns some place, 
even if we haven’t got eyes to see through the 
thickets. The Lawd will pahvide whethah it’s 
a burnt offerin’ or a meal’s vittles. He sho’ly 
will.” 

Lloyd crept away frightened. It seemed 
such an awful thing to her to see her mother 
cry. 

All at once her bright, happy world had 
changed to such a strange, uncertain place. 
She felt as if all sorts of terrible things were 
about to happen. 

She went into the parlour, and crawled into 
a dark corner under the piano, feeling that 
there was no place to go for comfort, since the 
one who had always kissed away her little 
troubles was so heart-broken herself. 

There was a patter of soft feet across ihe 
carpet, and Fritz poked his sympathetic nose 


62 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


into her face. She put her arms around him, 
and laid her head against his curly back with 
a desolate sob. 

It is pitiful to think how much imaginative 
children suffer through their wrong conception 
of things. 

She had seen the little roll of bills in her 
mother’s pocketbook. She had seen how much 
smaller it grew every time it was taken out to 
pay for the expensive wines and medicines that 
had to be bought so often. She had heard her 
mother tell the doctor that was all that stood 
between them and the poorhouse. 

There was no word known to the Little Colo- 
nel that brought such thoughts of horror as 
the word poorhouse. 

Her most vivid recollection of her life in 
New York was something that happened a few 
weeks before they left there. One day in the 
park she ran away from the maid, who, in- 
stead of Mom Beck, had taken charge of her 
that afternoon. 

When the angry woman found her, she 
frightened her almost into a spasm by telling 
her what always happened to naughty children 
who ran away. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


^3 


‘‘ They take all their pretty clothes off/' she 
said, “ and dress them up in old things made 
of bed-ticking. Then they take’m to the poor- 
house, where nobody but beggars live. They 
don’t have anything to eat but cabbage and 
corn-dodger, and they have to eat that out of 
tin pans. And they just have a pile of straw 
to sleep in.” 

On their way home she had pointed out to 
the frightened child a poor woman who was 
grubbing in an ash-barrel. 

“ That’s the way people get to look who live 
in poorhouses,” she said. 

It was this memory that was troubling the 
Little Colonel now. 

“ Oh, Fritz ! ” she whispered, with the tears 
running down her cheeks, “ I can’t beah to 
think of my pretty mothah goin’ there. That 
woman’s eyes were all red, an’ her hair was jus’ 
awful. She was so bony an’ stahved-lookin’. 
It would jus’ kill poah Papa Jack to lie on 
straw an’ eat out of a tin pan. I know it 
would ! ” 

When Mom Beck opened the door, hunting 
her, the room was so dark that she would have 


64 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


gone away if the dog had not come running 
out from under the piano. 

‘‘ You heah, too, chile? '' she asked, in sur- 
prise. I have to go down now an’ see if I 
can get Judy to come help to-morrow. Do you 
think you can undress yo’self to-night ? ” 

Of co’se,” answered the Little Colonel. 
Mom Beck was in such a hurry to be off that 
she did not notice the tremble in the voice that 
answered her. 

“ Well, the can’le is lit in yo’ room. So run 
along now like a nice little lady, an’ don’t 
bothah yo’ mamma. She got her hands full 
already.” 

“ All right,” answered the child. 

A quarter of an hour later she stood in her 
little white nightgown with her hand on the 
door-knob. 

She opened the door just a crack and peeped 
in. Her mother laid her finger on her lips, and 
beckoned silently. In another instant Lloyd 
was in her lap. She had cried herself quiet in 
the dark corner under the piano; but there 
was something more pathetic in her eyes than 
tears. It was the expression of one who under^ 
stood and sympathized. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 6$ 

** Oh, mothah,” she whispered, “ we does 
have such lots of troubles.” 

Yes, chickabiddy, but I hope they will soon 
be over now,” v/as the answer, as the anxious 
face tried to smile bravely for the child’s sake. 
“ Papa is sleeping so nicely now he is sure to 
be better in the morning.” 

That comforted the Little Colonel some, but 
for days she was haunted by the fear of the 
poorhouse. 

Every time her mother paid out any money 
she looked anxiously to see how much was still 
left. She wandered about the place, touching 
the trees and vines with caressing hands, feel- 
ing that she might soon have to leave them. 

She loved them all so dearly, — every stick 
and stone, and even the stubby old snowball 
bushes that never bloomed. 

Her dresses were outgrown and faded, but 
no one had any time or thought to spend on 
getting her new ones. A little hole began to 
come in the toe of each shoe. 

She was still wearing her summer sunbonnet, 
although the days were getting frosty. 

She was a proud little thing. It mortified 
her for any one to see her looking so shabby. 


66 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


vStill she uttered no word of complaint, for fear 
of lessening the little amount in the pocketbook 
that her mother had said stood between them 
and the poorhouse. 

She sat with her feet tucked under her when 
any one called. 

I wouldn’t mind bein’ a little beggah so 
much myself,” she thought, “ but I jus’ can’t 
have my bu’ful sweet mothah lookin’ like that 
awful red-eyed woman.” 

One day the doctor called Mrs. Sherman out 
into the hall. “I have just’ come from your 
father’s,” he said. “ He is suffering from a 
severe attack of rheumatism. He is confined 
to his room, and is positively starving for com* 
pany. He told me he would give anything in 
the world to have his little grandchild with 
him. There were tears in his eyes when ht 
said it, and that means a good deal from him. 
He fairly idolizes her. The servants have told 
him she mopes around and is getting thin and 
pale. He is afraid she will come down with the 
fever, too. He told me to use any stratagem I 
liked to get her there. But I think it’s better 
to tell you frankly how matters stand. It will 
do the child good to have a change, Elizabeth, 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 6/ 

and I solemnly think you ought to let her go, 
for a week at least.” 

“ But, doctor, she has never been away from 
me a single night in her life. She’d die of 
homesickness, and I know she’ll never consent 
to leave me. Then suppose Jack should get 
worse — ” 

“ We’ll suppose nothing of the kind,” he in- 
terrupted, brusquely. “Tell Becky to pack up 
her things. Leave Lloyd to me. I’ll get her 
consent without any trouble.” 

“ Come, Colonel,” he called, as he left the 
house. “ I’m going to take you a little ride.” 

No one ever knew what the kind oldTellow 
said to her to induce her to go to her grand- 
father’s. 

She came back from her ride looking 
brighter than she had in a long time. She 
felt that in some way, although in what way 
she could not understand, her going would 
help them to escape the dreaded poorhouse. 

“ Don’t send Mom Beck with me,” she 
pleaded, when the time came to start. “ You 
come with me, mothah.” 

Mrs. Sherman had not been past the gate for^ 


68 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


weeks, but she could not refuse the coaxing 
hands that clung to hers. 

It was a dull, dreary day. There was a chill- 
ing hint of snow in the damp air. The leaves 
whirled past them with a mournful rustling. 

Mrs. Sherman turned up the collar of 
Lloyd’s cloak. 

“ You must have a new one soon,” she said, 
with a sigh. “ Maybe one of mine could be 
made over for you. And those poor little 
shoes ! I must think to send to town for a new 
pair.” 

The walk was over so soon. The Little 
Cojonel’s heart beat fast as they came in sight 
of the gate. She winked bravely to keep back 
the tears ; for she had promised the doctor not 
to let her mother see her cry. 

A week seemed such a long time to look 
forward to. 

She clung to her mother’s neck, feeling that 
she could never give her up so long. 

‘‘ Tell me good-bye, baby dear,” said Mrs. 
Sherman, feeling that she could not trust her- 
self to stay much longer. It is too cold for 
you to stand here. Run on, and I’ll watch you 
till you get inside the door.” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


69 


The Little Colonel started bravely down the 
avenue, with Fritz at her heels. Every few 



steps she turned to look back and kiss her 
hand. 


Mrs. Sherman watched her through x' b^.ur of 
tears. It had been nearly seven years ‘L'^ce she 


70 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


had last stood at that old gate. Such a crowti 
of memories came rushing up! 

She looked again. There was a flutter of a 
white handkerchief as the Little Colonel and 
Fritz went up the steps. Then the great front 
door closed behind them. 


CHAPTER VII. 


That early twilight hour just before the 
lamps were lit was the lonesomest one the 
Little Colonel had ever spent. 

Her grandfather was asleep up-stairs. There 
was a cheery wood fire crackling on the hearth 
of the big fireplace in the hall, but the great 
house was so still. The corners were full of 
shadows. 

She opened the front door with a wild long- 
ing to run away. 

Come, Fritz,” she said, closing the door 
softly behind her, let's go down to the gate.” 

The air was cold. She shivered as they 
raced along under the bare branches of the 
locusts. She leaned against the gate, peering 
out through the bars. The road stretched 
white through the gathering darkness in the 
direction of the little cottage. 

7 * 


72 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


Oh, I want to go home so bad ! ’’ she 
sobbed. “ I want to see my mothah.” 

She laid her hand irresolutely on the latch, 
pushed the gate ajar, and then hesitated. 

No, I promised the doctah I’d stay,” she 
thought. He said I could help mothah and 
Papa Jack, both of ’em, by stayin’ heah, an’ 
I’ll do it.” 

Fritz, who had pushed himself through the 
partly opened gate to rustle around among the 
dead leaves outside, came bounding back with 
something in his mouth. 

Heah, suh ! ” she called. ‘‘ Give it to 
me ! ” He dropped a small gray kid glove in 
her outstretched hand. ‘‘ Oh, it’s mothah’s ! ” 
she cried. “ I reckon she dropped it when she 
was tellin’ me good-bye. Oh, you deah old 
dog fo’ findin’ it.” 

She laid the glove against her cheek as 
fondly as if it had been her mother’s soft hand. 
There was something wonderfully comforting 
in the touch. 

As they walked slowly back toward the 
house she rolled it up and put it lovingly away 
in her tiny apron pocket. 

All that week it was a talisman whose touch 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 73 

helped the homesick little soul to be brave aud 
womanly. 

When Maria, the coloured housekeeper, went 
into the hall to light the lamps, the Little 
Colonel was sitting on the big fur rug in front 
of the fire, talking contentedly to Fritz, who 
lay with his curly head in her lap. 

“ You albs goin’ to have tea in the Cun’l’s 
room to-night,’’ said Maria. “ He tole me to 
tote it up soon as he rung the bell.” 

‘‘ There it goes now,” cried the child, jump- 
ing up from the rug. 

She followed Maria up the wide stairs. The 
Colonel was sitting in a large easy chair, 
wrapped in a gaily flowered dressing-gown, 
that made his hair look unusually white by 
contrast. 

His dark eyes were intently watching the 
door. As it opened to let the Little Colonel 
pass through, a very tender smile lighted up 
his stern face. 

‘‘ So you did come to see grandpa after all,” 
he cried, triumphantly. ‘‘ Come here and give 
me a kiss. Seems to me you’ve been staying 
away a mighty long time.” 

As she stood beside him with his arm around 


74 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


her, Walker came in with a tray full of 
dishes. 

“ We’re going to have a regular little tea- 
party,” said the Colonel. 

Lloyd watched with sparkling eyes as 
Walker set out the rare old-fashioned dishes. 
There was a fat little silver sugar-bowl with a 
butterfly perched on each side to form the 
handles, and there was a slim, graceful cream- 
pitcher shaped like a lily. 

“ They belonged to your great-great-grand- 
mother,” said the Colonel, “ and they’re going 
to be yours some day if you grow up and have 
a house of your own.” 

The expression on her beaming face was 
worth a fortune to the Colonel. 

When Walker pushed her chair up to the 
table, she turned to her grandfather with shin- 
ing eyes. 

“ Oh, it’s just like a pink story,” she cried, 
clapping her hands. “ The shades on the 
can’les, the icin’ on the cake, an’ the posies in 
the bowl, — why, even the jelly is that colah, 
too. Oh, my darlin’ little teacup! It’s jus’ 
like a pink rosebud ! I’m so glad I came ! ” 

The Colonel smiled at the success of his plan. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


75 


In the depths of his satisfaction he even had a 
plate of quail and toast set down on the hearth 
for Fritz. 

“ This is the nicest pahty I evah was at/' 
remarked the Little Colonel, as Walker helped 
her to jam the third time. 

Her grandfather chuckled. 

“ Blackberry jam always makes me think of 
Tom,” he said. “ Did you ever hear what your 
Uncle Tom did when he was a little fellow in 
dresses ? ” 

She shook her head gravely. 

“ Well, the children were all playing hide- 
and-seek one day. They hunted high and they 
hunted low after everybody else had been 
caught, but they couldn't find Tom. At last 
they began to call, ‘ Home free ! You can come 
home free ! ' but he did not come. When he 
had been hidden so long they were frightened 
about him, they went to their mother and told 
her he wasn't to be found anywhere. She 
looked down the well and behind the fire-boards 
in the fireplaces. They called and called till 
they were out of breath. Finally she thought 
of looking in the big dark pantry where she 
kept her fruit. There stood Mister Tom. Fie 


76 


fHE LITTLE COLONEL 


had opened a jar of blackberry jam, and was 
just going for it with both hands. The jam 
was all over his face and hair and little ging- 
ham apron, and even up his wrists. He was 
the funniest sight I ever saw.” 

The Little Colonel laughed heartily at his 
description, and begged for more stories. Be- 
fore he knew it he was back in the past with 
his little Tom and Elizabeth. 

Nothing could have entertained the child 
more than these scenes he recalled of her 
mother’s childhood. 

“ All her old playthings are up in the garret,” 
he said, as they rose from the table. I’ll have 
them brought down to-morrow. There’s a doll 
I brought her from New Orleans once when 
she was about your size. No telling what it 
looks like now, but it was a beauty when it was 
new.” 

Lloyd clapped her hands and spun around 
the room like a top. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad I came ! ” she exclaimed 
for the third time. “ What did she call the 
doll, gran’fathah, do you remembah? ” 

I never paid much attention to such 
things,” he answered, but I do remember tiie 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 77 

name of this one, because she named it for her 
mother, — Amanthis.’' 

Amanthis,” repeated the child, dreamily, as 
she leaned against his knee. “ I think that 
is a lovely name, gran’fathah. I wish they 
had called me that.” She repeated it softly 



several times. It sounds like the wind 
a-blowin’ through white clovah, doesn’t it ? ” 

It is a beautiful name to me, my child,” 
answered the old man, laying his hand tenderly 
on her soft hair, “ but not so beautiful as the 
woman who bore it. She was the fairest flower 
of all Kentucky. There never was another 


7S 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


lived as sweet and gentle as your Grandmother 
Amanthis.’^ 

He stroked her hair absently, and gazed into 
the fire. He scarcely noticed when she slipped 
away from him. 

She buried her face a moment in the bowl 
of pink roses. Then she went to the window 
and drew back the curtain. Leaning her head 
against the window-sill, she began stringing 
on the thread of a tune the things that just then 
thrilled her with a sense of their beauty. 

“ Oh, the locus’-trees a-blowin’,’’ she sang, 
softly. An’ the moon a-shinin’ through them. 
An’ the starlight an^ pink roses; an’ Amam 
this — an’ Amanthis ! ” 

She hummed it over and over until Walker 
had finished carrying the dishes away. 

It was a strange thing that the Colonel’s 
unfrequent moods of tenderness were like those 
warm days that they call weather breeders. 

They were sure to be followed by a change 
of atmosphere. This time as the fierce rheu- 
matic pain came back he stormed at Walker, 
and scolded him for everything he did and 
everything he left undone. 

When Maria came up to put Lloyd to bed, 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 79 

Fritz was tearing around the room barking at 
his shadow. 

“ Put that dog out, M’ria ! ” roared the 
Colonel, almost crazy with its antics. “ Take 
it down-stairs, and put it out of the house, I 
say! Nobody but a heathen would let a dog 
sleep in the house, anyway.” 

The homesick feeling began to creep over 
Lloyd again. She had expected to keep Fritz 
in her room at night for company. But for 
the touch of the little glove in her pocket, she 
would have said something ugly to her grand- 
father when he spoke so harshly. 

His own ill humour was reflected in her 
scowl as she followed Maria down the stairs 
to drive Fritz out into the dark. 

They stood a moment in the open door, after 
Maria had slapped him with her apron to make 
him go off the porch. 

“ Oh, look at the new moon ! ” cried Lloyd, 
pointing to the slender crescent in the autumn 
sky. 

Fse feared to, honey,” answered Maria, 
‘‘ less I should see it through the trees. That 
'ud bring me bad luck for a month, suah. Til 


8o 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


go out on the lawn where it’s open, an’ look at 
it ovah my right shouldah.” 

While they were walking backward down the 
path, intent on reaching a place where they 
could have an uninterrupted view of the moon, 
Fritz sneaked around to the other , end of the 
porch. 

No one was watching. He slipped into the 
house as noiselessly as his four soft feet could 
carry him. 

Maria, going through the dark upper hall, 
with a candle held high above her head and 
Lloyd clinging to her skirts, did not see a tas- 
selled tail swinging along in front of her. It 
disappeared under the big bed when she led 
Lloyd into the room next the old Colonel’s. 

The child felt very sober while she was being 
put to bed. 

The furniture was heavy and dark. An ugly 
portrait of a cross old man in a wig frowned at 
her from over the mantel. The dancing fire- 
light made his eyes frightfully lifelike. 

The bed was so high she had to climb on a 
chair to get in. She heard Maria’s heavy feet 
go shuffling down the stairs. A door banged. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


8l 


Then it was so still she could hear the clock 
tick in the next room. 

It was the first time in all her life that her 
mother had not come to kiss her good night. 

Her lips quivered, and a big tear rolled down 
on the pillow. 

She reached out to the chair beside her bed, 
where her clothes were hanging, and felt in her 
apron pocket for the little glove. She sat up 
in bed, and looked at it in the dim firelight. 
Then she held it against her face. Oh, I 
want my mothah ! I want my mothah ! ” she 
sobbed, in a heartbroken whisper. 

Laying her head on her knees, she began to 
cry quietly, but with great sobs that nearly 
choked her. 

There was a rustling under the bed. She 
lifted her wet face in alarm. Then she smiled 
through her tears, for there was Fritz, her own 
dear dog, and not an unknown horror waiting 
to grab her. 

He stood on his hind legs, eagerly trying to 
lap away her tears with his friendly red tongue. 

She clasped him in her arms with an ecstatic 
hug. “ Oh, you’re such a comfort ! ” she whis- 
pered. I can go to sleep now.” 


82 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


She spread her apron on the bed, and mo- 
tioned him to jump. With one spring he was 
beside her. 

It was nearly midnight when the door from 
the Colonel's room was noiselessly opened. 

The old man stirred the fire gently until it 
burst into a bright flame. Then he turned to 
the bed. You rascal!” he whispered, look- 
ing at Fritz, who raised his head quickly with 
Si threatening look in his wicked eyes. 

Lloyd lay with one hand stretched out, hold- 
ing the dog’s protecting paw. The other held 
something against her tear-stained cheek. 

What under the sun ! ” he thought, as he 
drew it gently from her fingers. The little 
glove lay across his hand, slim and aristocratic- 
looking. He knew instinctively whose it was. 
‘‘ Poor little thing’s been crying,” he thought. 

She wants Elizabeth. And so do I! And so 
do I ! ” his heart cried out with bitter longing. 
‘‘ It’s never been like home since she left.” 

He laid the glove back on her pillow, and 
went to his room. 

If Jack Sherman should die,” he said to 
himself many times that night, ‘‘ then she 
would come home again. Oh, little daughter, 
little daughter ! why did you ever leave me ? ” 


CHAPTER VIIL 


The first thing that greeted the Little Colo- 
nel’s eyes when she opened them next morning 
was her mother’s old doll. Maria had laid it on 
the pillow beside her. 

It was beautifully dressed, although in a 
queer, old-fashioned style that seemed very 
strange to the child. 

She took it up with careful fingers, remem- 
bering its great age. Maria had warned her 
not to waken her grandfather, so she admired 
it in whispers. 

‘‘ Jus’ think, Fritz,” she exclaimed, “ this 
doll has seen my Gran’rnothah Amanthis, an’ 
it’s named for her. My mothah wasn’t any 
bigger’n me when she played with it. I think 
it is the loveliest doll I evah saw in my whole 
life.” 

Fritz gave a jealous bark. 

Sh ! ” commanded his little mistress, 


84 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


‘‘ Didn’t you heah M’ria say, * Fo’ de Lawd’s 
sake don’t wake up ole Marse?’ Why don’t 
you mind ? ” 

The Colonel was not in the best of humours 
after such a wakeful night, but the sight of 
her happiness made him smile in spite of him- 
self, when she danced into his room with the 
doll. 

She had eaten an early breakfast and gone 
back up-stairs to examine the other toys that 
were spread out in her room. 

The door between the two rooms was ajar. 
All the time he was dressing and taking his 
coffee he could hear her talking to some one. 
He supposed it was Maria. But as he glanced 
over his mail he heard the Little Colonel say- 
ing, “ May Lilly, do you know about Billy 
Goat Gruff? Do you want me to tell you that 
story ? ” 

He leaned forward until he could look 
through the narrow opening of the door. Two 
heads were all he could see, — Lloyd’s, soft- 
haired and golden. May Lilly’s, covered with 
dozens of tightly braided little black tails. 

He was about to order May Lilly back to 
the cabin, when he remembered the scene that 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 8$ 

followed the last time he had done so. He con- 
cluded to keep quiet and listen. 

‘‘ Billy Goat Gruff was so fat,” the story 
went on, “ jus’ as fat as gran’fathah.” 

The Colonel glanced up with an amused 
smile at the fine figure reflected in an opposite 
mirror. 

“ Trip-trap, trip-trap, went Billy Goat 
Gruff’s little feet ovah the bridge to the giant’s 
house.” 

Just at this point Walker, who was putting 
things in order, closed the door between the 
rooms. 

Open that door, you black rascal ! ” called 
the Colonel, furious at the interruption. 

In his haste to obey. Walker knocked over a 
pitcher of water that had been left on the floor 
beside the wash-stand. 

Then the Colonel yelled at him to be quick 
about mopping it up, so that by the time the 
door was finally opened, Lloyd was finishing 
her story. 

The Colonel looked in just in time to see her 
put her hands to her temples, with her fore- 
fingers protruding from her forehead like 
horns. She said in a deep voice, as she brand- 


86 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


ished them at May Lilly, “ With my two long 
speahs Til poke yo’ eyeballs through yo' 
yeahs.” 

The little darky fell back giggling. That 
sut’n’y was like a billy-goat! We had one once 
that ’ud make a body step around mighty peart. 
It slip up behine me one mawnin’ on the poach, 
an’ fo’ awhile I thought my haid was buss open 
suah. I got up toreckly, though, an’ I cotch 
him, and when I done got through, Mistah 
Billy-goat feel po’ly moah’n a week. He sut’n’y 
did.” 

Walker grinned, for he had witnessed the 
scene. 

Just then Maria put her head in at the door 
to say, ‘‘ May Lilly, yo’ mammy’s callin’ you.” 

Lloyd and Fritz followed her noisily down- 
stairs. Then for nearly an hour it was ver^ 
quiet in the great house. 

The Colonel, looking out of the window, 
could see Lloyd playing hide-and-seek with 
Fritz under the bare locust-trees. 

When she came in her cheeks were glowing 
from her run in the frosty air. Her eyes shone 
like stars, and her face was radiant. 

“ See what I’ve found down in the dead 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 8^ 

leaves,” she cried. ''A little blue violet, 
bloomin’ all by itself.” 

She brought a tiny cup from the next room, 
that belonged to the set of doll dishes, and put 
the violet in it. 

There ! ” she said, setting it on the table at 
her grandfather’s elbow. “ Now I’ll put Aman- 
this in this chair, where you can look at her, 
an’ you won’t get lonesome while I’m playing 
outdoors.” 

He drew her toward him and kissed her. 

‘‘ Why, how cold your hands are ! ” he ex- 
claimed. Staying in this warm room all the 
time makes me forget it is so wintry outdoors. 
1 don’t believe you are dressed warmly enough. 
You ought not to wear sunbonnets this time of 
year.” 

Then for the first time he noticed her out® 
grown cloak and shabby shoes. 

What are you wearing these old clothes 
for ? ” he said, impatiently. Why didn’t they 
dress you up when you were going visiting? It 
isn’t showing proper respect to send you off in 
the oldest things you’ve got.” 

It was a sore point with the Little Colonel. 
It hurt her pride enough to have to wear old 


88 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


clothes without being scolded for it. Besides, 
she felt that in some way her mother was being 
blamed for what could not be helped. 

“ They’s the best I’ve got,” she answered, 
proudly choking back the tears. “ I don’t need 
any new ones, ’cause maybe we’ll be goin’ away 
pretty soon.” 

“ Going away ! ” he echoed, blankly. 
“ Where?” 

She did not answer until he repeated the 
question. Then she turned her back on him, 
and started toward the door. The tears she 
was too proud to let him see were running 
down her face. 

“ We’s goin’ to the poah-house,” she ex- 
claimed, defiantly, “ jus’ as soon as the money 
in the pocketbook is used up. It was nearly 
gone when I came away.” 

Here she began to sob, as she fumbled at the 
door she could not see to open. 

I’m goin’ home to my mothah right now. 
She loves me if my clothes are old and ugly.” 

Why, Lloyd,” called the Colonel, amazed 
and distressed by her sudden burst of grief. 
“ Come here to grandpa. Why didn’t you tell 
me so before ? ” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


89 


The face, the tone, the outstretched arm, all 
drew her irresistibly to him. It was a relief to 
lay her head on his shoulder, and unburden 
herself of the fear that had haunted her so 
many days. 

With her arms around his neck, and the 
precious little head held close to his heart, the 
old Colonel was in such a softened mood that, 
he would have promised anything to comfort 
her. 

‘‘ There, there,” he said, soothingly, stroking 
her hair with a gentle hand, when she had told 
him all her troubles. “ Don’t you worry about 
that, my dear. Nobody is going to eat out of 
tin pans and sleep on straw. Grandpa just 
won’t let them.” 

She sat up and wiped her eyes on her 
apron. But Papa Jack would die befo’ he’d 
take help from you,” she wailed. An’ so 
would mothah. I heard her tell the doctah 
so.” 

The tender expression on the Colonel’s face 
changed to one like flint, but he kept on strok- 
ing her hair. 

People sometimes change their minds,” he 
said, grimly. ‘‘ I wouldn’t worry over a little 


90 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


thing like that if I were you. Don’t you want 
to run down-stairs and tell M’ria to give you a 
piece of cake?” 

‘‘ Oh, yes,” she exclaimed, smiling up at him. 
“ I’ll bring you some, too.” 

When the first train went into Louisville that 
afternoon. Walker was on board with an order 
in his pocket to one of the largest dry goods 
establishments in the city. When he came out 
again that evening, he carried a large box into 
the Colonel’s room. 

Lloyd’s eyes shone as she looked into it. 
There was an elegant fur-trimmed cloak, a 
pair of dainty shoes, and a muff that she caught 
up with a shriek of delight. 

‘‘ What kind of a thing is this ? ” grumbled 
the Colonel, as he took out a hat that had been 
carefully packed in one corner of the box. ‘‘ I 
told them to send the most stylish thing they 
had. It looks like a scarecrow,” he continued, 
as he set it askew on the child’s head. 

She snatched it off to look at it herself. 
“ Oh, it’s jus’ like Emma Louise Wyfo’d’s ! ” 
^he exclaimed. “ You didn’t put it on straight. 
See! This is the way it goes.” 

She climbed up in front of the mirror, and 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


91 


put it on as she had seen Emnia Louise wear 
hers. 

“ Well, it’s a 
regular Napoleon 
hat,” exclaimed 
the Colonel, much 
pleased. “ So little 
girls nowadays 
have taken to 
wearing soldier’s 
caps, have they ? 

It’s right becoming 
to you with your 
short hair. Grandpa 
IS real proud of 
his ' little Colo- 
nel.’ ” 

She gave him 
the military salute | 
he had taught her,' 
and then ran to 
throw her arms 
around him. ‘‘ Oh, 
gran’fathah ! ” she 
exclaimed between her kisses, you’se jus’ as 
good as Santa Claus, every bit.” 



92 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


The Colonel’s rheumatism was better next 
day; so much better that toward evening he 
walked down-stairs into the long drawing- 
room. The room had not been illuminated in 
years as it was that night. 

Every wax taper was lighted in the silver 
candelabra, and the dim old mirrors multiplied 
their lights on every side. A great wood fire 
threw a cheerful glow over the portraits and 
the frescoed ceiling. All the linen covers had 
been taken from the furniture. 

Lloyd, who had never seen this room except 
with the chairs shrouded and the blinds down, 
came running in presently. She was be- 
wildered at first by the change. Then she 
began walking softly around the room, exam- 
ining everything. 

In one corner stood a tall, gilded harp that 
her grandmother had played in her girlhood. 
The heavy cover had kept it fair and untar- 
nished through all the years it had stood un- 
used. To the child’s beauty-loving eyes it 
seemed the loveliest thing she had ever seen. 

She stood with her hands clasped behind her 
as her gaze wandered from its pedals to the 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 93 

graceful curves of its tall frame. It shone like 
burnished gold in the soft firelight. 

“ Oh, gran’fathah ! ” she asked at last in a 
low, reverent tone, “ where did you get it ? 
Did an angel leave it heah fo’ you ? ” 

He did not answer for a moment. Then he 
said, huskily, as he looked up at a portrait over 
the mantel, “ Yes, my darling, an angel did 
leave it here. She always was one. Come here 
to grandpa.” 

He took her on his knee, and pointed up to, 
the portrait. The same harp was in the pic- 
ture. Standing beside it, with one hand rest- 
ing on its shining strings, was a young girl all 
in white. 

' ' That’s the way she looked the first time I 
ever saw her,” said the Colonel, dreamily. “ A 
June rose in her hair, and another at her throat ; 
and her soul looked right out through those 
great, dark eyes — the purest, sweetest soul 
God ever made ! My beautiful Amanthis ! ” 
My bu’ful Amanthis ! ” repeated the child, 
in an awed whisper. 

She sat gazing into the lovely young face for 
a long time, while the old man seemed lost in 
dreams. 


94 


THE LITTLE COLONEL ' 


Gran’fathah,” she said at length, patting 
his cheek to attract his attention, and then 
nodding toward the portrait, did she love my 
mothah like my mothah loves me ? ” 

“ Certainly, my dear,” was the gentle reply. 

It was the twilight hour, when the homesick 
feeling always came back strongest to Lloyd. 

“ Then I jus’ know that if my bu’fui gran’- 
mothah Amanthis could come down out of that 
frame, she’d go straight and put her arms 
around my mothah an’ kiss away all her sorry 
feelin’s.” 

The Colonel fidgeted uncomfortably in his 
chair a moment. Then to hJs great relief the 
tea-bell rang. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Every evening after that during Lloyd’s 
visit the fire burned on the hearth of the long 
drawing-room. All the wax candles were 
lighted, and the vases were kept full of flowers, 
fresh from the conservatory. 

She loved to steal into the room before her 
grandfather came down, and carry on imagi- 
nary conversations with the old portraits. 

Tom’s handsome, boyish face had the great- 
est attraction for her. His eyes looked down 
so smilingly into hers that she felt he surely 
understood every word she said to him. 

Once Walker overheard her saying, “ Uncle 
Tom, I’m goin’ to tell you a story ’bout Billy 
Goat Gruff.” 

Peeping into the room, he saw the child look- 
ing earnestly up at the picture, with her hands 
clasped behind her, as she began to repeat her 
favourite story. It do beat all,” he said to 
95 


96 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


himself, “ how one little chile like that can wake 
up a whole house. She’s the life of the place.” 

The last evening of her visit, as the Colonel 
was coming down-stairs he heard the faint 
vibration of a harp-string. It was the first time 
Lloyd had ever ventured to touch one. He 
paused on the steps opposite the door, and 
looked in. 

“ Heah, Fritz,” she was saying, you get 
up on the sofa, an’ be the company, an’ I’ll sing 
fo’ you.” 

Fritz, on the rug before the fire, opened one 
sleepy eye and closed it again. She stamped 
her foot, and repeated her order. He paid no 
attention. Then she picked him up bodily, and, 
with much puffing and pulling, lifted him into 
a chair. 

He waited until she had gone back to the 
harp, and then, with one spring, disappeared 
under the sofa. 

“ N’m min’,” she said, in a disgusted tone. 
‘‘ I’ll pay you back, mistah.” Then she looked 
up at the portrait. “ Uncle Tom,” she said, 

you be the company, an’ I’ll play fo’ you.” 

Her fingers touched the strings so lightly 
that there was no discord in the random tones. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


97 



98 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


Her voice carried the air clear and true, and the 
faint trembling of the harp-strings interfered 
with the harmony no more than if a wandering 
breeze had been tangled in them as it passed. 

“ Sing me the songs that to me were so deah 
Long, long ago, long ago. 

Tell me the tales I delighted to heah 
Long, long ago, long ago.” 

The sweet little voice sang it to the end 
without missing a word. It was the lullaby her 
mother oftenest sang to her. 

The Colonel, who had sat down on the steps 
to listen, wiped his eyes. 

‘‘ My ‘ long ago ’ is all that I have left tc 
me,” he thought, bitterly, “ for to-morrow this 
little one, who brings back my past with every 
word and gesture, will leave me, too. Why 
can’t that Jack Sherman die while he’s about 
it, and let me have my own back again ? ” 

That question recurred to him many times 
during the week after Lloyd’s departure. He 
missed her happy voice at every turn. He 
missed her bright face at the table. The house 
seemed so big and desolate without her. He 
ordered all the covers put back on the drawing- 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


99 


room furniture, and the door locked as be- 
fore. 

It was a happy moment for the Little Colonel 
when she was lifted down from Maggie Boy at 
the cottage gate. 

She went dancing into the house, so glad to 
find herself in her mother’s arms that she for- 
got all about the new cloak and muff that had 
made her so proud and happy. 

She found her father propped up among the 
pillows, his fever all gone, and the old mis- 
chievous twinkle in his eyes. 

He admired her new clothes extravagantly, 
paying her joking compliments until her face 
beamed; but when she had danced off to find 
Mom Beck, he turned to his wife. “ Eliza- 
beth,” he said, wonderingly, “ what do you 
suppose the old fellow gave her clothes for? 
I don’t like it. I’m no beggar if I have lost 
lots of money. After all that’s passed between 
us I don’t feel like taking anything from his 
hands, or letting my child do it, either.” 

To his great surprise she laid her head down 
on his pillow beside his and burst into tears. 

Oh, Jack,” she sobbed, I spent the Iasi 
dollar this morning. I wasn’t going to tell you. 


100 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


but I don’t know what is to become of us. He 
gave Lloyd those things because she was just in 
rags, and I couldn’t afford to get anything 
new.” 

He looked perplexed. “ Why, I brought 
home so much,” he said, in a distressed tone. 
“ I knew I was in for a long siege of sickness, 
but I was sure there was enough to tide us over 
that.” 

She raised her head. ‘‘ You brought money 
home!” she replied, in surprise. “I hoped 
you had, and looked through all your things, 
but there was only a little change in one of your 
pockets. You must have imagined it when you 
were delirious.” 

“ What ! ” he cried, sitting bolt upright, and 
then sinking weakly back among the pillows. 
‘‘ You poor child! You don’t mean to tell m^ 
you have been skimping along all these weeks 
on just that check I sent you before starting 
home.” 

‘‘ Yes,” she sobbed, her face still buried in 
the pillow. She had borne the strain of con- 
tinued anxiety so long that she could not stop 
her tears, now they had once started. 

It was with a very thankful heart she 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


lOI 


watched him take a pack of letters from the 
coat she brought to his bedside, and draw out 
a sealed envelope. 

“ Well, I never once thought of looking 
among those letters for money,” she exclaimed, 
as he held it up with a smile. 

His investments of the summer before had 
prospered beyond his greatest hopes, he told 
her. “ Brother Rob is looking after my inter- 
ests out West, as well as his own,” he ex- 
plained, and as his father-in-law is the grand 
mogul of the place, I have the inside track. 
Then that firm I went security for in New York 
is nearly on its feet again, and I’ll have back 
every dollar I ever paid out ^or them. Nobody 
ever lost anything by those men in the long 
run. We’ll be on top again by this time next 
year, little wife; so don’t borrow any more 
trouble on that score.” 

The doctor made his last visit that afternoon. 
It really seemed as if there would never be any 
more dark days at the little cottage. 

‘‘ The clouds have all blown away and left 
us their silver linings,” said Mrs. Sherman the 
day her husband was able to go out-of-doors 
for the first time. He walked down to the post' 


102 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


office, and brought back a letter from the West. 
It had such encouraging reports of his business 
that he was impatient to get back to it. He 
wrote a reply early in the afternoon, and in- 
sisted on going to mail it himself. 

ril never get my strength back,” he pro- 
tested, “ unless I have more exercise.” 

It was a cold, gray November day. A 
few flakes of snow were falling when he 
started. 

“ I’ll stop and rest at the Tylers’,” he called 
back, ‘‘ so don’t be uneasy if I’m out some 
time.” 

After he left the post-office the fresh air 
tempted him to go farther than he had in- 
tended. At a long distance from his home his 
strength seemed suddenly to desert him. The 
snow began to fall in earnest. Numb with cold, 
he groped his way back to the house, almost 
fainting from exhaustion. 

Lloyd was blowing soap-bubbles when she 
saw him come in and fall heavily across the 
couch. The ghastly pallor of his face and his 
closed eyes frightened her so that she dropped 
the little clay pipe she was using. As she 
stooped to pick up the broken pieces, her 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


103 

mother’s cry startled her still more. “ Lloyd, 
run call Becky, quick, quick! Oh, he’s dy- 
ing!” 

Lloyd gave one more terrified look and ran 
to the kitchen, screaming for Mom Beck. No 
one was there. ' 

The next instant she was running bareheaded 
as fast as she could go, up the road to Locust. 
She was confident of finding help there. 

The snowflakes clung to her hair and blew 
against her soft cheeks. All she could see was 
her mother wringing her hands, and her 
father’s white face. When she burst into the 
house where the Colonel sat reading by the 
Are, she was so breathless at first that she could 
only gasp when she tried to speak. 

Come quick ! ” she cried. “ Papa Jack’s 
a-dyin’ ! Come stop him ! ” 

At her first impetuous words the Colonel was 
on his feet. She caught him by the hand and 
led him to the door before he fully realized 
what she wanted. Then he drew back. She 
was impatient at the slightest delay, and only 
half answered his questions. 

Oh, come, gran’fathah ! ” she pleaded. 

Don’t wait to talk ! ” But he held her until 


104 


•iriE LITTLE COLONEL 


he had learned all the circumstances. He was 
convinced by what she told him that both Lloyd 
and her mother were unduly alarmed. When 
he found that no one had sent for him, but that 
the child had come of her own accord, he re- 
fused to go. 

He did not believe that the man was dying, 
and he did not intend to step aside one inch 
from the position he had taken. For seven 
years he had kept the vow he made when he 
swore to be a stranger to his daughter. He 
would keep it for seventy times seven years if 
need be. 

She looked at him perfectly bewildered. She 
had been so accustomed to his humouring her 
slightest whims, that it had never occurred to 
her he would fail to help in a time of such dis- 
tress. 

‘‘ Why, gran’fathah,” she began, her lips 
trembling piteously. Then her whole expres- 
sion changed. Her face grew startlingly white, 
and her eyes seemed so big and black. The 
Colonel looked at her in surprise. He had 
never seen a child in such a passion before. 
‘‘I hate you! I hate you!’' she exclaimed, 
all in a tremble. ‘‘ You’s a cruel, wicked rnan. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL IO5 

ril nevah come heah again, nevah ! nevah ! 
nevah ! ” 

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she 
banged the door behind her and ran down the, 
avenne, her little heart so full of grief and dis- 
appointment that she felt she could not possi- 
bly bear it. 

For more than an hour the Colonel walked 
up and down the room, unable to shut out the 
anger and disappointment of that .little face. 

He knew she was too much like himself ever 
to retract her words. She would never come 
back. He never knew until that hour how 
much he loved her, or how much she had come 
to mean in his life. She was gone hopelessly 
beyond recall, unless — 

He unlocked the door of the drawing-room 
and went in. A faint breath of dried rose- 
leaves greeted him. He walked over to the 
empty fireplace and looked up at the sweet face 
of the portrait a long time. Then he leaned 
his arm on the mantel and bowed his head on 
it. Oh, Amanthis,” he groaned, “ tell me 
what to do.” 

Lloyd’s own words came oack to him. 
‘‘ She’d go right straight an’ put her arms 


106 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


around my mothah an’ kiss away all the sorry 
feelin’s.” 

It was a long time he stood there. The bat- 
tle between his love and pride was a hard one. 
At last he raised his head and saw that the 
short winter day was almost over. Without 
waiting to order his horse he started off in the 
falling snow toward the cottage. 


CHAPTER X. 


A GOOD many forebodings crowded into the 
Colonel’s mind as he walked hurriedly on. He 
wondered how he would be received. What if 
Jack Sherman had died after all? What if 
Elizabeth should refuse to see him? A dozen 
times before he reached the gate he pictured to 
himself the probable scene of their meeting. 

He was out of breath and decidedly disturbed 
in mind when he walked up the path. As he 
paused on the porch steps, Lloyd came running 
around the house carrying her parrot on a 
broom. 

Her hair was blowing around her rosy face 
under the Napoleon hat she wore, and she was 
singing. 

The last two hours had made a vast change 
in her feelings. Her father had only fainted 
from exhaustion. 

When she came running back from Locust, 
107 


io8 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


she was afraid to go in the house, lest what she 
dreaded most had happened while she was 
gone. She opened the door timidly and peeped 
in. Her father’s eyes were open. Then she 
heard him speak. She ran into the room, and, 
burying her head in her mother’s lap, sobbed 
out the story of her visit to Locust. 

To her great surprise her father began to 
laugh, and laughed so heartily as she repeated 
her saucy speech to her grandfather, that it 
took the worst sting out of her disappointment. 

All the time the Colonel had been fighting 
his pride among the memories of the dim old 
drawing-room, Lloyd had been playing with 
Fritz and Polly. 

Now as she came suddenly face to face with 
her grandfather, she dropped the disgusted 
bird in the snow, and stood staring at him 
with startled eyes. If he had fallen out qf the 
sky she could not have been more astonished. 

Where is your mother, child ? ” he asked, 
trying to speak calmly. With a backward look, 
as if she could not believe the evidence of her 
own sight, she led the way into the hall. 

‘‘ Mothah ! Mothah ! ” she called, pushing 
open the parlour door. Come heah, quick ! 


THE LITTLE COLONEL IO9 

The Colonel, taking the hat from his white 
head, and dropping it on the floor, took an 
expectant step forward. There was a slight 
rustle, and Elizabeth stood in the doorway. 
For just a moment they looked into each other’s 
faces. Then the Colonel held out his arm. 

“ Little daughter,” he said, in a tremulous 
voice. The love of a lifetime seemed to tremble 
in those two words. 

In an instant her arms were around his neck, 
and he was “ kissing away the sorry feelin’s ” 
as tenderly as the lost Amanthis could have 
done. 

As soon as Lloyd began to realize what was 
happening, her face grew radiant. She danced 
around in such excitement that Fritz barked 
wildly. 

Come an’ see Papa Jack, too,” she cried, 
leading him into the next room. 

Whatever deep-rooted prejudices Jack Sher- 
man may have had, they were unselfishly put 
aside after one look into his wife’s happy face. 

He raised himself on his elbow as the digni- 
fied old soldier crossed the room. The white 
hair, the empty sleeve, the remembrance of all 
the old man had lost, and the thought that 


no 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


after all he was Elizabeth’s father, sent a very 
tender feeling through the younger man’s 
heart. 

‘‘Will you take my hand, sir?” he asked, 
sitting up and offering it in his straightforward 
way. 

“ Of co’se he will ! ” exclaimed Lloyd, who 
still clung to her grandfather’s arm. “ Of co’se 
he will!” 

“ I have been too near death to harbour ill 
will any longer,” said the younger man, as their 
hands met in a strong, forgiving clasp. 

The old Colonel smiled grimly. 

“ I had thought that even death itself could 
not make me give in,” he said, “ but I’ve had 
to make a complete surrender to the Little 
Colonel.” 

That Christmas there was such a celebration 
at Locust that May Lilly and Henry Qay 
nearly went wild in the general excitement of 
the preparation. Walker hung up cedar and 
holly and mistletoe till the big house looked 
like a bower. Maria bustled about, airing 
rooms and bringing out stores of linen and 
silver. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


III 


The Colonel himself filled the great punch- 
bowl that his grandfather had brought from 
Virginia. 

I’m glad we’re goin’ to stay heah to-night,” 
said Lloyd, as she hung up her stocking Christ^ 
mas Eve. ‘‘ It will be so much easiah fo’ Santa 
Claus to get down these big chimneys.” 

In the morning when she found four tiny 
stockings hanging beside her own, overflowing 
with candy for Fritz, her happiness was com- 
plete. 

That night there was a tree in the drawing- 
room that reached to the frescoed ceiling. 
When May Lilly came in to admire it and get 
her share from its loaded branches, Lloyd came 
skipping up to her. Oh, I’m goin’ to live 
heah all wintah,” she cried. Mom Beck’s 
goin’ to stay heah with me, too, while mothah 
an’ Papa Jack go down South where the alliga- 
tahs live. Then when they get well an’ come 
back. Papa Jack is goin’ to build a house on the 
othah side of the lawn. I’m to live in both 
places at once; mothah said so.” 

There were music and light, laughing voices 
and happy hearts in the old home that night. 
It seemed as if the old place had awakened 


II2 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


from a long dream and found itself young 
again. 

The plan the Little Colonel unfolded to May 
Lilly was carried out in every detail. It seemed 
a long winter to the child, but it was a happy 
one. There were not so many displays of ten> 
per now that she was growing older, but the 
letters that went southward every week were 
full of her odd speeches and mischievous 
pranks. The old Colonel found it hard to re- 
fuse her anything. If it had not been for Mom 
Beck’s decided ways, the child would have been 
sadly spoiled. 

At last the spring came again. The pewees 
sang in the cedars. The dandelions sprinkled 
the roadsides like stars. The locust-trees 
tossed up the white spray of their fragrant 
blossoms with every wave of their green 
boughs. 

They’ll soon be heah ! They’ll soon be 
heah ! ” chanted the Little Colonel every day. 

The morning they came she had been down 
the avenue a dozen times to look for them 
before the carriage had even started to meet 
them. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL II3 

** Walkah,” she called, ‘‘ cut me a big locus^ 
bough. I want to wave it fo’ a flag ! ” 

Just as he dropped a branch down at her feet, 
she caught the sound of wheels. ‘‘ Hurry, 
gran’fathah,” she called; they’s cornin’.” But 
the old Colonel had already started on toward 
the gate to meet them. The carriage stopped, 
and in a moment more Papa Jack was tossing 
Lloyd up in his arms, v/hile the old Colonel 
was helping Elizabeth to alight. 

“ Isn’t this a happy mawnin’ ? ” exclaimed 
the Little Colonel, as she leaned from her seat 
on her father’s shoulder to kiss his sunburned 
cheek. 

‘‘ A very happy morning,” echoed her grand- 
father, as he walked on toward the house with 
Elizabeth’s hand clasped close in his own. 

Long after they had passed up the steps the 
old locusts kept echoing the Little Colonel’s 
words. Years ago they had showered their 
fragrant blossoms in this same path to make 
a sweet white way for Amanthis’s little feet 
to tread when the Colonel brought home his 
bride. 

They had dropped their tribute on the coflin- 
lid when Tom was carried home under their 


114 


THE LITTLE COLONEL 


drooping branches. The soldier-boy had loved 
them so, that a little cluster had been laid on 
the breast of the gray coat he wore. 

Night and day they had guarded this old 
home like silent sentinels that loved it well. 

Now, as they looked down on the united 
family, a thrill passed through them to their 
remotest bloom-tipped branches. 

It sounded only like a faint rustling of leaves, 
but it was the locusts whispering together. 
‘‘ The children have come home at last,” they 
kept repeating. “ What a happy morning! 
Oh, what a happy morning ! ” 


TEE ENa 


THE GIANT SCISSORS 



I 



CMAPTBR 



PAGE 

I. 

In the Pear-tree 

• • 

II 

II. 

A New Fairy Tale 

• • 

26 

III. 

Behind the Great Ga'FE . 

• • 

47 

IV. 

A Letter- AND a Meeting . 

t • 

65 

V. 

A Thanksgiving Barbecue. 

• • 

80 

VI. 

Joyce Plays Ghost 

• • 

100 

VII. 

Old “Number Thirty-one” 

• • 

120 

VIII. 

Christmas Plans and an Accident . 

139 

. IX. 

A Great Discovery 

• • 

15s 

X. 

Christmas .... 

• • 

174 


>4 



t 


JULSS. 



THE GATE OF THE GIANT 
SCISSORS. 


CHAPTER I. 

IN THE PEAR-TREE. 

Joyce was crying, up in old Monsieur Gr& 
ville's tallest pear-tree. She had gone down 
to the farthest corner of the garden, out of 
sight of the house, for she did not want any 
one to know that she was miserable enough 
to cry. 

She was tired of the garden with the high 
stone wall around it, that made her feel like a 
prisoner ; she was tired of French verbs and 
foreign faces ; she was tired of France, and so 
homesick for her mother and Jack and Holland 
and the baby, that she couldn’t help crying. 


12 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

No wonder, for she was only twelve years old, 
and she had never been out of the little West- 
ern village where she was born, until the day 
she started abroad with her Cousin Kate. 

Now she sat perched up on a limb in a dis- 
mal bunch, her chin in her hands and her 
elbows on her knees. It was a gray afternoon 
in November; the air was frosty, although the 
laurel-bushes in the garden were all in bloom. 

I s’pect there is snow on the ground at 
home,” thought Joyce, ‘‘and there’s a big, 
cheerful fire in the sitting-room grate. 

“ Holland and the baby are shelling corn, and 
Mary is popping it. Dear me ! I can smell it 
just as plain ! Jack will be coming in from the 
post-office pretty soon, and maybe he’ll have 
one of my letters. Mother will read it out 
loud, and there they’ll all be, thinking that I 
am having such a fine time ; that it is such a 
grand thing for me to be abroad studying, and 
having dinner served at night in so many 
courses, and all that sort of thing. They 
don’t know that I am sitting up here in this 
pear-tree, lonesome enough to die. Oh, if I 
could only . go back home and see them for 
even five minutes,” -she sobbed, “but I can’t I 


IN THE PEAR-TREE. 1 3 

I can't ! There’s a whole wide ocean between 
us!” 

She shut her eyes, and leaned back against 
the tree as that desolate feeling of homesick- 
ness settled over her like a great miserable 
ache. Then she found that shutting her eyes, 
and thinking very hard about the little brown 
house at home, seemed to bring it into plain 
sight. It was like opening a book, and seeing 
picture after picture as she turned the pages. 

There they were in the kitchen, washing 
dishes, she and Mary ; and Mary was stand- 
ing on a soap-box to make her tall enough to 
handle the dishes easily. How her funny little 
braid of yellow hair bobbed up and down as she 
worked, and how her dear little freckled face! 
beamed, as they told stories to each other to 
make the work seem easier. 

Mary’s stories all began the same way : ‘Hf 
I had a witch with a wand, this is what we 
would do.” The witch with a wand had come 
to Joyce in the shape of Cousin Kate Ware, 
and that coming was one of the pictures that 
Joyce could see now, as she thought about it 
with her eyes closed. 

There was Holland swinging on the gate, 


14 the gate of the giant scissors. 

waiting for her to come home from school, and 
trying to tell her by excited gestures, long 
before she was within speaking distance, that 
some one was in the parlor. The baby had on 
his best plaid kilt and new tie, and the tired 
little mother was sitting talking in the parlor, 
an unusual thing for her. Joyce could see her- 
self going up the path, swinging her sun-bonnet 
by the strings and taking hurried little bites of 
a big June apple in order to finish it before 
going into the house. Now she was sitting on 
the sofa beside Cousin Kate, feeling very awk- 
ward and shy with her little brown fingers 
clasped in this stranger’s soft white hand. 
She had heard that Cousin Kate was a very 
rich old maid, who had spent years abroad, 
studying music and languages, and she had 
expected to see a stout, homely woman with 
bushy eyebrows, like Miss Teckla Schaum, 
who played the church organ, and taught 
German in the High School. 

But Cousin Kate was altogether unlike Miss 
Teckla. She was tall and slender, she was 
young-looking and pretty, and there was a 
stylish air about her, from the waves of her 
soft golden brown hair to the bottom of her 


IN THE PEAR-TREE. 1 5 

tailor-made gown, that was not often seen in 
this little Western village. 

Joyce saw herself glancing admiringly at 
Cousin Kate, and then pulling down her dress 
as far as possible, painfully conscious that her 
shoes were untied, and white with dust. The 
next picture was several days later. She and 
Jack were playing mumble-peg outside under 
the window by the 'lilac-bushes, and the little 
mother was just inside the door, bending over 
a pile of photographs that Cousin Kate had 
dropped in her lap. Cousin Kate was saying, 
“This beautiful old French villa is where I 
expect to spend the winter. Aunt Emily. 
These are views of Tours, the town that lies 
across the river Loire from it, and these are 
some of the chateaux near by that I intend to 
visit. They say the purest French in the 
world is spoken there. I have prevailed on 
one of the dearest old ladies that ever lived to 
give me rooms with her. She and her husband 
live all alone in this big country place, so I 
shall have to provide against loneliness by tak- 
ing my company with me. Will you let me 
have Joyce for a year.?” 

Jack and she stopped playing in sheer aston^ 


1 6 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

ishment, while Cousin Kate went on to explain 
how many advantages she could give the little 
girl to whom she had taken such a strong fancy. 

Looking through the lilac-bushes, Joyce 
could see her mother wipe her eyes and say, 
“It seems like pure providence, Kate, and I 
can t stand in the child’s way. She’ll have to 
support herself soon, and ought to be prepared 
for it ; but she’s the oldest of the five, you 
know, and she has been like my right hand 
ever since her father died. There’ll not be a 
minute while she is gone, that I shall not miss 
her and wish her back. She’s the life and sun- 
shine of the whole home.” 

Then Joyce could see the little brown house 
turned all topsy-turvy in the whirl of prepa- 
ration that followed, and the next thing, she 
was standing on the platform at the station, 
with her new steamer trunk beside her. Half 
the town was there to bid her good-by. In 
the excitement of finding herself a person of 
such importance she forgot how much she was 
leaving behind her, until looking up, she saw a 
tender, wistful smile on her mother’s face, sad- 
der than any tears. 

Luckily the locomotive whistled just then, 



WHERE JOYCE LIVED. 




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IN THE PEAR-TREE. 


19 


and the novelty of getting aboard a train for 
the first time, helped her to be brave at the 
parting. She stood on the rear platform of 
the last car, waving her handkerchief to the 
group at the station as long as it was in sight, 
so that the last glimpse her mother should 
have of her, was with her bright little face all 
ashine. 

All these pictures passed so rapidly through 
Joyce’s mind, that she had retraced the experi- 
ences of the last three months in as many min- 
utes. Then, somehow, she felt better. The 
tears had washed away the ache in her throat. 
She wiped her eyes and climbed liked a squirrel 
to the highest limb that could bear her weight. 

This was not the first time that the old pear- 
tree had been shaken by Joyce’s grief, and it 
knew that her spells of homesickness always 
ended in this way. There she sat, swinging her 
plump legs back and forth, her long light hair 
blowing over the shoulders of her blue jacket, 
and her saucy little mouth puckered into a soft 
whistle. She could see over the high wall now. 
The sun was going down behind the tall Lom- 
bardy poplars that lined the road, and in a dis- 
tant field two peasants still at work reminded 


20 THE Gate OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

her of the picture of ‘‘The Angelus.” They 
seemed like acquaintances on account of the re- 
semblance, for there was a copy of the picture 
in her little bedroom at home. 

All arouwd her stretched quiet fields, sloping 
down to the ancient village of St. Symphorien 
and the river Loire. Just across the river, so 
near that she could hear the ringing of the 
cathedral bell, lay the famous old town of Tours. 
There was something in these country sights 
and sounds that soothed her with their homely 
cheerfulness. The crowing of a rooster and the 
barking of a dog fell on her ear like familiar 
music. 

“ It’s a comfort to hear something speak 
English,” she sighed, “even if it’s nothing but 
a chicken. I do wish that Cousin Kate 
wouldn’t be so particular about my using 
French all day long. The one little half- 
hour at bedtime when she allows me to speak 
English isn’t a drop in the bucket. It’s a 
mercy that I had studied French some before 
I came, or I would have a lonesome time. I 
wouldn’t be able to ever talk at all.” 

It was getting cold up in the pear-tree. 
Joyce shivered and stepped down to the limb 


IN THE PEAR-TREE. 


21 


below, but paused in her descent to watch a 
peddler going down the road with a pack on 
his back. 

“Oh, he is stopping 
at the gate with the 
b i g scissors ! ” she 
cried, so interested 
that she spoke aloud. 

“ I must wait to see 
if it opens.” 

There was some- 
thing mysterious 
about that gate across 
the road. Like Mon- 
sieur Greville’s, it 
was plain and solid, 

'•eaching as high as 
the wall. Only the . 
lime-trees and the 
second story win- 
dows the house could be seen above it. 

On tha top it bore an iron medallion, on which 
was fartened a huge pair of scissors. There 

was a smaller pair on each gable of the house, 

also. 

During the three months that Joyce had 




22 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

been in Monsieur Gr^ville’s home, she had 
watched every day to see it open ; but if any 
one ever entered or left the place, it was cer- 
tainly by some other way than this queer gate. 

What lay beyond it, no one could tell. She 
had questioned Gabriel the coachman, and 
Berthe the maid, in vain. Madame Greville 
said that she remembered having heard, when 
a child, that the man who built it was named 
Ciseaux^ and that was why the symbol of this 
name was hung over the gate and on the gables. 
He had been regarded as half crazy by his neigh- 
bors. The place was still owned by a descend- 
ant of his, who had gone to Algiers, and left it 
in charge of two servants. 

The peddler rang the bell of the gate several 
times, but failing to arouse any one, shouldered 
his pack and went off grumbling. Then Joyce 
climbed down and walked slowly up the grav- 
elled path to the house. Cousin Kate had 
just come back from Tours in the pony cart, 
and was waiting in the door to see if Gabriel 
had all the bundles that she had brought out 
with her. 

Joyce followed her admiringly into the house. 
She wished that she could grow up to look 


IN THE PEAR-TREE. 


23 


exactly like Cousin Kate, and wondered if she 
would ever wear such stylish silk-lined skirts, 
and catch them up in such an airy, graceful 
way when she ran up-stairs ; and if she would 
ever have a Paris hat with long black feathers, 
and always wear a bunch of sweet violets on 
her coat. 

She looked at herself in Cousin Kate’s mir- 
ror as she passed it, and sighed. Well, I am 
better-looking than when I left home,” she 
thought. “ That’s one comfort. My face isn’t 
freckled now, and my hair is more becoming 
this way than in tight little pigtails, the way 
I used to wear it.” 

Cousin Kate, coming up behind her, looked 
over her head and smiled at the attractive re- 
flection of Joyce’s rosy cheeks and straightfor- 
ward gray eyes. Then she stopped suddenly 
and put her arms around her, saying, “What’s 
the matter, dear ? You have been crying.” 

“Nothing,” answered Joyce, but there was 
a quaver in her voice, and she turned her head 
aside. Cousin Kate put her hand under the 
resolute little chin, and tilted it until she could 
look into the eyes that dropped under her gaze. 
“You have been crying,” she said again, this 


24 the gate of the giant scissors. 

time in English, crying because you are home» 
sick. I wonder if it would not be a good occu- 
pation for you to open all the bundles that I 
got this afternoon. There is a saucepan in one, 
and a big spoon in the other, and all sorts of 
good things in the others, so that we can make 
some molasses candy here in my room, over the 
open fire. While it cooks you can curl up in 
the big armchair and listen to a fairy tale in 
the firelight. Would you like that, little one ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” cried Joyce, ecstatically. “That’s 
what they are doing at home this minute, I am 
sure. We always make candy every afternoon 
in the winter time.” 

Presently the saucepan was sitting on the 
coals, and Joyce’s little pug nose was raptur- 
ously sniffing the odor of bubbling molasses. 
“ I know what I’d like the story to be about,” 
she said, as she stirred the delicious mixture 
with the new spoon. “ Make up something 
about the big gate across the road, with the 
scissors on it.” 

Cousin Kate crossed the room, and sat down 
by the window, where she could look out and 
see the top of it. 

“ Let me think for a few minutes,” she said* 


IN THE PEAR-TREE. 2$ 

I have been very much interested in that old 
gate myself.” 

She thought so long that the candy was done 
before she was ready to tell the story ; but 
while it cooled in plates outside on the win- 
dow-sill, she drew Joyce to a seat beside 
her in the chimney-corner. With her feet on 
the fender, and the child’s head on her shoulder, 
she began this story, and the firelight dancing 
on the walls, showed a smile on Joyce’s com 
tented little face. 


CHAPTER II. 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 

Once upon a time, on a far island of the sea, 
there lived a King with seven sons. The three 
eldest were tall and dark, with eyes like eagles, 
and hair like a crow’s wing for blackness, and 
no princes in all the land were so strong and 
fearless as they. The three youngest sons 
were tall and fair, with eyes as blue as corn- 
flowers, and locks like the summer sun for 
brightness, and no princes in all the land were 
so brave and beautiful as they. 

But the middle son was little and lorn ; he 
was neither dark nor fair ; he was neither hand- 
some nor strong. So when the King saw that 
he never won in the tournaments nor led in 
the boar hunts, nor sang to his lute among 
the ladies of the court, he drew his royal 
robes around him, and henceforth frowned on 
Ethelried. 


\ NEW FAIRY TALE. 


27 


To each of his other sons he gave a portioi 
of his kingdom, armor and plumes, a prancing 
charger, and a trusty sword ; but to Ethelried he 
gave nothing. When 
the poor Prince saw 
his brothers riding 
out into the world to 
win their fortunes, he 
fain would have fol- 
lowed. Throwing 
himself on his 
knees before the 
King, he cried, “ Oh, 
royal Sire, bestow 
upon me also a sword 
and a steed, that I 
may up and away to 
follow my brethren.*' 

But the King 
laughed him to scorn. 

“ Thou a sword ! ” he 
quoth. “ Thou who hast never done a deed of 
valor in all thy life ! In sooth thou shalt have 
one, but it shall be one befitting thy maiden 
size and courage, if so small a weapon can be 
found in all my kingdom ! ’* 



28 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Now just at that moment it happened that 
the Court Tailor came into the room to measure 
the King for a new mantle of ermine. Forth- 
with the grinning Jester began shrieking with 
laughter, so that the bells upon his motley cap 
were all set a-j angling. 

“ What now, Fool ? ” demanded the King. 

** I did but laugh to think the sword of Ethel- 
ried had been so quickly found,” responded the 
Jester, and he pointed to the scissors hanging 
from the Tailor’s girdle. 

“ By my troth,” exclaimed the King, “ it 
shall be even as thou sayest ! ” and he com- 
manded that the scissors be taken from the 
Tailor, and buckled to the belt of Ethelried. 

Not until thou hast proved thyself a prince 
with these, shalt thou come into thy kingdom,” 
he swore with a mighty oath. “Until that far 
day, now get thee gone ! ” 

So Ethelried left the palace, and wandered 
away over mountain and moor with a heavy 
heart. No one knew that he was a prince ; 
no fireside offered him welcome ; no lips gave 
him a friendly greeting. The scissors hung 
useless and rusting by his side. 

One night as he lay in a deep forest, too 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


29 


unhappy to sleep, he heard a noise near at 
hand in the bushes. By the light of the 
moon he saw that a ferocious wild beast had 
been caught in a hunter’s snare, and was 
struggling to free itself from the heavy net. 
His first thought was to slay the animal, for 
he had had no meat for many days. Then he 
bethought himself that he had no weapon large 
enough. 

While he stood gazing at the struggling 
beast, it turned to him with such a beseeching 
look in its wild eyes, that he was moved to pity. 

‘‘Thou shalt have thy liberty,” he cried, 
“ even though thou shouldst rend me in 
pieces the moment thou art free. Better 
dead than this craven life to which my father 
hath doomed me ! ” 

So he set to work with the little scissors to 
cut the great ropes of the net in twain. At 
first each strand seemed as hard as steel, and 
the blades of the scissors were so rusty and 
dull that he could scarcely move them. Great 
beads of sweat stood out on his brow as he 
bent himself to the task. 

Presently, as he worked, the blades began to 
grow sharper and sharper, and brighter and 


30 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

brighter, and longer and longer. By the time 
that the last rope was cut the scissors were as 
sharp as a broadsword, and half as long as his 
body. 

At last he raised the net to let the beast go 
free. Then he sank on his knees in astonish* 
ment. It had suddenly disappeared, and in its 
place stood a beautiful Fairy with filmy wings, 
which shone like rainbows in the moonlight. 

' ‘‘Prince Ethelried,” she said in a voice that 
was like a crystal bell’s for sweetness, “dost 
thou not know that thou art in the domain of a 
frightful Ogre ? It was he who changed me 
into the form of a wild beast, and set the snare 
to capture me. But for thy fearlessness and 
faithful perseverance in the task which thou 
didst in pity undertake, I must have perished 
at dawn.” 

At this moment there was a distant rum- 
bling as of thunder. “’Tis the Ogre!” cried 
the Fairy. “We must hasten.” Seizing the 
scissors that lay on the ground where Ethelried 
had dropped them, she opened and shut them 
several times, exclaiming : 

“ Scissors, grow a giant’s height 
And save us from the Ogre’s might ! ” 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


31 


Immediately they grew to an enormous size, 
and, with blades extended, shot through the 
tangled thicket ahead of them, cutting down 
everything that stood in their way, — bushes, 
stumps, trees, vines ; nothing could stand before 
the fierce onslaught of those mighty blades. 

The Fairy darted down the path thus opened 
ap, and Ethelried followed as fast as he could, 
for the horrible roaring was rapidly coming 
nearer. At last they reached a wide chasm 
that bounded the Ogre’s domain. Once 
across that, they would be out of his power, 
but it seemed impossible to cross. Again the 
Fairy touched the scissors, saying : 

“ Giant scissors, bridge the path, 

And save us from the Ogre’s wrath.” 

Again the scissors grev/ longer and longer, 
until they lay across the chasm like a shining 
bridge. Ethelried hurried across after the 
Fairy, trembling and dizzy, for the Ogre was 
now almost upon them. As soon as they were 
safe on the other side, the Fairy blew upon the 
scissors, and, presto, they became shorter and 
shorter until they were only the length of an 
ordinary sword. 


32 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

‘‘Here,” she said, giving them into his hands; 
“ because thou wast persevering and fearless in 
setting me free, these shall win for thee thy 
heart’s desire. But remember that thou canst 
not keep them sharp and shining, unless they 
are used at least once each day in some unself- 
ish service.” 

Before he could thank her she had vanished, 
and he was left in the forest alone. He could 
see the Ogre standing powerless to hurt him, 
on the other side of the chasm, and gnashing 
his teeth, each one of which was as big as a 
millstone. 

The sight was so terrible, that he turned on 
his heel, and fled away as fast as his feet could 
carry him. By the time he reached the edge 
of the forest he was very tired, and ready to 
faint from hunger. His heart’s greatest desire 
being for food, he wondered if the scissors 
could obtain it for him as the Fairy had 
promised. He had spent his last coin and 
knew not where to go for another. 

Just then he spied a tree, hanging full of 
great, yellow apples. By standing on tiptoe 
he could barely reach the lowest one with his 
scissors. He cut oft an apple, and was about 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 33 

to take a bite, when an old Witch sprang out 
of a hollow tree across the road. 

“ So you are the thief who has been steal- 
ing my gold' apples all this last fortnight!’' she 
exclaimed. ** Well, you shall never steal again, 
that I promise you. Ho, Frog-eye Fearsome, 
seize on him and drag him into your darkest 
dungeon 1 ” 

At that, a hideous-looking fellow, with eyes 
like a frog’s, green hair, and horrid clammy 
webbed fingers, clutched him before he could 
turn to defend himself. He was thrust into 
the dungeon and left there all day. 

At sunset. Frog-eye Fearsome opened the 
door to slide in a crust and a cup of water, 
saying in a croaking voice, You shall be 
hanged in the morning, hanged by the neck 
until you are quite dead.” Then he stopped 
to run his webbed fingers through his damp 
green hair, and grin at the poor captive Prince, 
as if he enjoyed his suffering. But the next 
morning no one came to take him to the 
gallows, and he sat all day in total darkness. 
At sunset Frog-eye Fearsome openec} the door 
again to thrust in another crust and some water 
and say, *Hn the morning you shall be drowned ; 


34 the gate of the giant scissors. 

drowned in the Witch’s mill-pond with a great 
stone tied to your heels.” 

Again the croaking creature stood and 
gloated over his victim, then left him to the 
silence of another long day in the dungeon. 
The third day he opened the door and hopped 
in, rubbing his webbed hands together with 
fiendish pleasure, saying, ‘‘You are to have 
no food and drink to-night, for the Witch has 
thought of a far more horrible punishment for 
you. In the morning I shall surely come 
again, and then — beware ! ” 

Now as he stopped to grin once more at the 
poor Prince, a Fly darted in, and, blinded by the 
darkness of the dungeon, flew straight into a 
spider’s web, above the head of Ethelried. 

“ Poor creature ! ” thought Ethelried. “ Thou 
shalt not be left a prisoner in this dismal spot 
while I have the power to help thee.” He lifted 
the scissors and with one stroke destroyed the 
web, and gave the Fly its freedom. 

As soon as the dungeon had ceased to echo 
with the noise that Frog-eye Fearsome made in 
banging shut the heavy door, Ethelried heard a 
low buzzing near his ear. It was the Fly, which 
had alighted on his shoulder. 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


35 


“ Let an insect in its gratitude teach you 
this,” buzzed the Fly. “To-morrow, if you 
remain here, you must certainly meet your 
doom, for the Witch never keeps a prisoner 
past the third night. But escape is pos- 
sible. Your prison door is of iron, but the 
shutter which bars the window is only of 
wood. Cut your way out at midnight, and I 
will have a friend in waiting to guide you to a 
place of safety. A faint glimmer of light on 
the opposite wall shows me the keyhole. I 
shall make my escape thereat and go to repay 
thy unselfish service to me. But know that 
the scissors move only when bidden in rhyme. 
Farewell.” 

The Prince spent all the following time until 
midnight, trying to think of a suitable verse to 
say to the scissors. The art of rhyming had 
been neglected in his early education, and it 
was not until the first cock-crowing began that 
he succeeded in making this one : 

« Giant scissors, serve me well, 

And save me from the Witch’s spell I ” 

As he uttered the words the scissors leaped 
^ out of his hand, and began to cut through the 


36 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

wooden shutters as easily as through a cheese 
In a very short time the Prince had crawled 
through the opening. There he stood, outside 
the dungeon, but it was a dark night and he 
knew not which way to turn. 

He could hear Frog-eye Fearsome snoring 
like a tempest up in the watch-tower, and the 
old Witch was talking in her sleep in seven 
languages. While he stood looking around 
him in bewilderment, a Firefly alighted on 
his arm. Flashing its little lantern in the 
Prince’s face, it cried, This way ! My friend, 
the Fly, sent me to guide you to a place of 
safety. Follow me and trust entirely to my 
guidance.” 

The Prince flung his mantle over his shoul- 
der, and followed on with all possible speed. 
They stopped first in the Witch’s orchard, and 
the Firefly held its lantern up while the Prince 
filled his pockets with the fruit. The apples 
were gold with emerald leaves, and the cherries 
were rubies, and the grapes were great bunches 
of amethyst. When the Prince had filled his 
pockets he had enough wealth to provide for all 
his wants for at least a twelvemonth. 

The Firefly led him on until they came to a 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


37 


town where was a fine inn. There he left 
him, and flew off to report the Prince’s safety 
to the Fly and receive the promised reward. 

Here Ethelried stayed for many weeks, living 
like a king on the money that the fruit jewels 
brought him. All this time the scissors were 
becoming little and rusty, because he never 
once used them, as the Fairy bade him, in 
unselfish service for others. But one day he 
bethought himself of her command, and started 
out to seek some opportunity to help some- 
body. 

Soon he came to a tiny hut where a sick man 
lay moaning, while his wife and children wept 
beside him. ‘‘ What is to become of me } ” 
cried the poor peasant. My grain must fall 
and rot in the field from overripeness because 
I have not the strength to rise and harvest it ; 
then indeed must we all starve.” 

Ethelried heard him, and that night, when the 
moon rose, he stole into the field to cut it down 
with the giant scissors. They were so rusty 
from long idleness that he could scarcely move 
them. He tried to think of some rhyme with 
which to command them ; but it had been so 
long since he had done any thinking, except’ for 


38 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

his own selfish pleasure, that his brain refused 
to work. 

However, he toiled on all night, slowly cutting 
down the grain stalk by stalk. Towards morn- 
ing the scissors became brighter and sharper, 
until they finally began to open and shut ot 
their own accord. The whole field was cut by 
sunrise. Now the peasant’s wife had risen very 
early to go down to the spring and dip up some 
cool water for her husband to drink. She came 
upon Ethelried as he was cutting the last row ot 
the grain, and fell on her knees to thank him. 
From that day the peasant and all his family 
were firm friends of Ethelried’s, and would have 
gone through fire and water to serve him. 

After that he had many adventures, and he 
was very busy, for he never again forgot what 
the Fairy had said, that only unselfish service 
each day could keep the scissors sharp and 
shining. When the shepherd lost a little lamb 
one day on the mountain, it was Ethelried who 
found it caught by the fleece in a tangle of 
cruel thorns. When he had cut it loose and 
carried it home, the shepherd also became his 
firm friend, and would have gone through fire 
and water to serve him. 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


39 


The grandame whom ne supplied with fagots, 
the merchant whom he rescued from robbers, 
the King’s councillor to whom he gave aid, 
all became his friends. Up and down the 
land, to beggar or lord, homeless wanderer or 
high-born dame, he gladly 
gave unselfish service all 
unsought, and such as he 
helped straightway became 
his friends. 

Day by day the scissors 
grew sharper and sharper 
and ever more quick to spring 
forward at his bidding. 

One day a herald dashed 
down the highway, shouting 
through his silver trumpet 
that a beautiful Princess had 
been carried away by the 
Ogre. She was the only 
child of the King of this country, and the 
knights and nobles of all other realms and all 
the royal potentates were prayed to come to 
her rescue. To him who could bring her back 
to her father’s castle should be given the throne 
and kingdom, as well as the Princess herself- 



40 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

So from far and near, indeed from almost 
every country under the sun, came knights 
and princes to fight the Ogre. One by one 
their brave heads were cut off and stuck on 
poles along the moat that surrounded the 
castle. 

Still the beautiful Princess languished in her 
prison. Every night at sunset she was taken up 
to the roof for a glimpse of the sky, and told to 
bid good-by to the sun, for the next morning 
would surely be her last. Then she would 
wring her lily-white hands and wave a sad 
farewell to her home, lying far to the west- 
ward. When the knights saw this they would 
rush down to the chasm and sound a challenge 
to the Ogre. 

They were brave men, and they would not 
have feared to meet the fiercest wild beasts, but 
many shrunk back when the Ogre came rush- 
ing out. They dared not meet in single combat, 
this monster with the gnashing teeth, each one 
of which was as big as a millstone. 

Among those who drew back were Ethel- 
ried’s brothers (the three that were dark and 
the three that were fair). They would not 
acknowledge their fear. They said, *‘We are 



THE PRINCESS, 



A NEW FAIRY TALE. 43 

only waiting to lay some wily plan to capture 
the Ogre.'' 

After several days Ethelried reached the 
place on foot. ** See him," laughed one of the 
brothers that was dark to one that was> fair. 
“ He comes afoot ; no prancing steed, no wav- 
ing plumes, no trusty sword ; little and lorn, he 
is not fit to be called a brother to princes." 

But Ethelried heeded not their taunts. He 
dashed across the drawbridge, and, opening his 
scissors, cried: 

“ Giant scissors, rise in power ! 

Grant me my heart’s desire this hour I ” 

The crowds on the other side held their 
breath as the Ogre rushed out, brandishing a 
club as big as a church steeple. Then Whack ! 
Bang ! The blows of the scissors, warding off 
the blows of the mighty club, could be heard 
for miles around. 

At last Ethelried became so exhausted that 
he could scarcely raise his hand, and it was 
plain to be seen that the scissors could not do 
battle much longer. By this time a great many 
people, attracted by the terrific noise, had come 
running up to the moat. The news had spread 


44 the gate of the giant scissors. 

far and wide that Ethelried was in danger ; so 
every one whom he had ever served dropped 
whatever he was doing, and ran to the scene of 
the battle. The peasant was there, and the 
shepherd, and the lords and beggars and high- 
born dames, all those whom Ethelried had ever 
befriended. 

As they saw that the poor Prince was about 
to be vanquished, they all began a great lamen- 
tation, and cried out bitterly. 

“ He saved my harvest,” cried one. “ He 
found my lamb,” cried another. “ He showed 
me a greater kindness still,” shouted a third. 
And so they went on, each telling of some 
unselfish service that the Prince had rendered 
him. Their voices all joined at last into such a 
roar of gratitude that the scissors were given 
fresh strength on account of it. They grew 
longer and longer, and stronger and stronger, 
until with one great swoop they sprang forward 
and cut the ugly old Ogre’s head from his 
shoulders. 

Every cap was thrown up, and such cheering 
rent the air as has never been heard since 
They did not know his name, they did not 
know that h^ was Prince Ethelried; but they 


A NEW FAIRY TALE. 


45 


knew by his valor that there was royal blood 
in his veins. So they all cried out long and 
loud : Long live the Prince ! Prince Ciseaux ! " 

Then the King stepped down from his throne 
and took off his crown to give to the conqueror, 
but Ethelried put it aside. 

‘‘Nay,” he said. “The only kingdom that I 
crave is the kingdom of a loving heart and a 
happy fireside. Keep all but the Princess.” 

So the Ogre was killed, and the Prince came 
into his kingdom that was his heart’s desire. 
He married the Princess, and there was feasting 
and merrymaking for seventy days and seventy 
nights, and they all lived happily ever after. 

When the feasting was over, and the guests 
had all gone to their homes, the Prince pulled 
down the house of the Ogre and built a new 
one. On every gable he fastened a pair of 
shining scissors to remind himself that only 
through unselfish service to others comes the 
happiness that is highest and best. 

Over the great entrance gate he hung the 
ones that had served him so valiantly, saying, 
“Only those who belong to the kingdom of 
loving hearts and happy homes can ever enter 
here.” 


46 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

One day -the old King, with the brothers of 
Ethelried (the three that were dark and the 
three that were fair), came riding up to the 
portal. They thought to share in Ethelried’s 
fame and splendor. But the scissors leaped 
from their place and snapped so angrily in their 
faces that they turned their horses and fled. 

Then the scissors sprang back to their place 
again to guard the portal of Ethelried, and, to 
this day, only those who belong to the kingdom 
of loving hearts may enter the Gate of the 
Giant Scissors, 


CHAPTER III. 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 

That was the tale of the giant scissors as it 
was told to Joyce in the pleasant fire-lighted 
room ; but behind the great gates the true 
story went on in a far different way. 

Back of the Ciseaux house was a dreary field, 
growing drearier and browner every moment as 
the twilight deepened ; and across its rough 
furrows a tired boy was stumbling wearily 
homeward. He was not more than nine years 
old, but the careworn expression of his thin 
white face might have belonged to a little old 
man of ninety. He was driving two unruly 
goats towards the house. The chase they led him 
would have been a laughable sight, had he not 
looked so small and forlorn plodding along in 
his clumsy wooden shoes, and a peasar t’s blouse 
of blue cotton, several sizes too laige for -his 
thin little body. 


47 


48 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

The anxious look in his eyes changed to one 
of fear as he drew nearer the house. At the 
sound of a gruff voice bellowing at him from 
the end of the lane, he winced as if he had 
been struck. 

‘‘Ha, there, Jules! ihou lazy vagabond! 
Late again ! Canst thou never learn that I 
am not to be kept waiting ? ” 

“But, Brossard,” quavered the boy in his 
shrill, anxious voice, “ it was not my fault, 
indeed it was not. The goats were so stub- 
born to-night. They broke through the hedge, 
and I had to chase them over three fields.” 

“ Have done with thy lying excuses,” was 
the rough answer. “Thou shalt have no sup- 
per to-night. Maybe an empty stomach will 
teach thee when my commands fail. Hasten 
and drive the goats into the pen.” 

There was a scowl on Brossard’ s burly red 
face that made Jules’s heart bump up in his 
throat. Brossard was only the caretaker of the 
Ciseaux place, but he had been there for twenty 
years, — so long that he felt himself the master. 
The real master was in Algiers nearly all the 
time. During his absence the great house was 
closed, excepting the kitchen and two rooms 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 49 

above it. Of these Brossard had one and 
Henri the other. Henri was the cook ; a slow^ 
stupid old man, not to be jogged out of either 
his good-nature or his slow gait by anything 
that Brossard might say. 

Henri cooked and washed and mended, and 
hoed in the garden. Brossard worked in the 
fields and shaved down the expenses of their 
living closer and closer. All that was thus 
saved fell to his share, or he might not have 
Watched the expenses so carefully. 

Much saving had made him miserly. Old 
Therese, the woman with the fish-cart, used to 
say that he was the stingiest man in all Tour- 
raine. She ought to know, for she had sold 
him a fish every Friday during all those twenty 
years, and he had never once failed to quarrel 
about the price. Five years had gone by since 
the master’s last visit. Brossard and Henri 
were not likely to forget that time, for they 
had been awakened in the dead of night by a 
loud knocking at the side gate. When they 
opened it the sight that greeted them made 
them rub their sleepy eyes to be sure that they 
saw aright. 

There stood the master, old Martin Ciseaux. 


50 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

His hair and fiercely bristling mustache had 
turned entirely white since they had last seen 
him. In his arms he carried a child. 

Brossard almost dropped his candle in his 
first surprise, and his wonder grew until he 
could hardly contain it, when the curly head 
taised itself from monsieur’s shoulder, and the 
sleepy baby voice lisped something in a foreign 
tongue. 

“ By all the saints ! ” muttered Brossard, as 
^e stood aside for his master to pass. 

“It’s my brother Jules’s grandson,” was the 
curt explanation that monsieur offered. “Jules 
is dead, and so is his son and all the family, — 
died in America. This is his son’s son, Jules, 
the last of the name. If I choose to take him 
from a foreign poorhouse and give him shelter, 
it’s nobody’s business, Louis Brossard, but my 
own.” 

With that he strode on up the stairs to his 
room, the boy still in his arms. This sudden 
coming of a four-year-old child into their daily 
life made as little difference to Brossard and 
Henri as the presence of the four-months-old 
puppy. They spread a cot for him in Henri’s 
room when the master went back to Algiers. 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 5 I 

They gave him something to eat three times a 
day when they stopped for their own meals, 
and then went on with their work as usual. 

It made no difference to them that he sobbed 
in the dark for his mother to come and sing 
him to sleep, — the happy young mother who 
had petted and humored him in her own fond 
American fashion. They could not under- 
stand his speech ; more than that, they could 
not understand him. Why should he mope 
alone in the garden with that beseeching look 
of a lost dog in his big, mournful eyes ? Why 
should he not play and be happy, like the neigh- 
bor’s children or the kittens or any other young 
thing that had life and sunshine ? 

Brossard snapped his fingers at him some- 
times at first, as he would have done to a 
playful animal ; but when Jules drew back, 
frightened by his foreign speech and rough 
voice, he began to dislike the timid child. 
After awhile he never noticed him except to 
push him aside or to find fault. 

It was from Henri that Jules picked up 
whatever French he learned, and it was from 
Henri also that he had received the one awk- 
ward caress, and the only one, that his desolate 


52 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Jittle heart had known in all the five loveless 
years that he had been with them. 

A few months ago Brossard had put him 
out in the field to keep the goats from straying 
away from their pasture, two stubborn crea* 
tures, whose self-willed wanderings had brought 
many a scolding down on poor Jules’s head. 
To-night he was unusually unfortunate, for 
added to the weary chase they had led him was 
this stern command that he should go to bed 
without his supper. 

He was about to pass into the bouse, shiver* 
ing and hungry, when Henri put his head out 
at the window. “Brossard,” he called, “there 
isn’t enough bread for supper ; there’s just this 
dry end of a loaf. You should have bought as 
I told you, when the baker’s cart stopped here 
this morning.” 

Brossard slowly measured the bit of hard, 
black bread with his eye, and, seeing that there 
was not half enough to satisfy the appetites of 
two hungry men, he grudgingly drew a franc 
from his pocket. 

“ Here, Jules,” he called. “ Go down to the 
bakery, and see to it that thou art back by 
the time that I have milked the goats, or thou 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 53 

shalt go to bed with a beating, as well as 
supperless. Stay ! ” he added, as Jules turned 
to go. “ I have a mind to eat white bread to- 
night instead of black. It will cost an extra 
sou, so be careful to count the change. It is 
only once or so in a twelvemonth,” he muttered 
to himself as an excuse for his extravagance. 

It was half a mile to the village, but down 
hill all the way, so that Jules reached the 
bakery in a very short time. 

Several customers were ahead of him, how- 
ever, and he awaited his turn nervously. When 
he left the shop an old lamplighter was going 
down the street with torch and ladder, leaving 
a double line of twinkling lights in his wake, as 
he disappeared down the wide “Paris road.” 
Jules watched him a moment, and then ran 
rapidly on. For many centuries the old village 
of St. Symphorien had echoed with the clatter 
of wooden shoes on its ancient cobblestones ; 
but never had foot-falls in its narrow, crooked 
streets kept time to the beating of a lonelier 
little heart. 

The officer of Customs, at his window beside 
the gate that shuts in the old town at night, 
nodded in a surly way as the boy hurried 


54 the gate of the giant scissors. 

past. Once outside the gate, Jules walked 
more slowly, for the road began to wind up-hill. 
Now he was out again in the open country, 
where a faint light lying over the frosty fields 
showed that the moon was rising. 

Here and there lamps shone from the win- 
dows of houses along the road ; across the 
field came the bark of a dog, welcoming his 
master ; two old peasant women passed him in 
a creaking cart on their glad way home. 

At the top of the hill Jules stopped to take 
breath, leaning for a moment against the stone 
wall. He was faint from hunger, for he had 
been in the fields since early morning, with 
nothing for his midday lunch but a handful 
of boiled chestnuts. The smell of the fresh 
bread tantalized him beyond endurance. Oh, 
to be able to take a mouthful, — just one little 
mouthful of that brown, sweet crust ! 

He put his face down close, and shut his 
eyes, drawing in the delicious odor with long, 
deep breaths. What bliss it would be to have 
that whole loaf for his own, — he, little Jules, 
who was to have no supper that night ! He 
held it up in the moonlight, hungrily looking 
at it on every side. There was not a broken 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 55 

place to be found anywhere on its surface ; not 
one crack in all that hard, brown glaze of crust, 
from which he might pinch the tiniest crumb. 

For a moment a mad impulse seized him to 
tear it in pieces, and eat every scrap, regardless 
of the reckoning with Brossard afterwards. But 
it was only for a moment. The memory of his 
last beating stayed his hand. Then, fearing to 
dally with temptation, lest it should master him, 
he thrust the bread under his arm, and ran 
every remaining step of the way home. 

Brossard took the loaf from him, and pointed 
with it to the stairway, — a mute command for 
Jules to go to bed at once. Tingling with a 
sense of injustice, the little fellow wanted to 
shriek out in all his hunger and misery, defying 
this monster of a man ; but a struggling spar- 
row might as well have tried to turn on the 
hawk that held it. He clenched his hands to 
keep from snatching something from the table, 
set out so temptingly in the kitchen, but he 
dared not linger even to look at it. With a 
feeling of utter helplessness he passed it in 
silence, his face white and set. 

Dragging his tired feet slowly up the stairs, 
he went over to the casement window, and 


56 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

swung it open ; then, kneeling down, he laid 
his head on the sill, in the moonlight. Was it 
his dream that came back to him then, or only 
a memory ? He could never be sure, for if it 
were a memory, it was certainly as strange 
as any dream, unlike 
anything he had ever 
known in his life with 
Henri and Brossard. 
Night after night he 
had comforted himself 
with the picture that it 
brought before him. 

He could see a little 
white house in the 
middle of a big lawn. 
There were vines on the 
porches, and it must 
have been early in the 
evening, for the fireflies 
were beginning to twinkle over the lawn. And 
the grass had just been cut, for the air was 
sweet with the smell of it. A woman, standing 
on the steps under the vines, was calling JuleSi 
Jules, it is time to come in, little son ! 

But Jules, in his white dress and shoulder 



BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 57 

knots of blue ribbon, was toddling across the 
lawn after a firefly. 

Then she began to call him another way. 
Jules had a vague idea that it was a part of 
some game that they sometimes played together. 
It sounded like a song, and the words were not 
like any that he had ever heard since he came to 
live with Henri and Brossard. He could not 
forget ‘them, though, for had they not sung 
themselves through that beautiful dream every 
time he had it 

« Little Boy Blue, oh, where are you ? ^ 

O, where are you-u-u-u ? ” 

He only laughed in the dream picture and 
ran on after the firefly. Then a man came 
running after him, and, catching him, tossed 
him up laughingly, and carried him to the 
house on his shoulder. 

Somebody held a glass of cool, creamy milk 
for him to drink, and by and by he was in a 
little white night-gown in the woman’s lap. 
His head was nestled against her shoulder, 
and he could feel her soft lips touching him 
on cheeks and eyelids and mouth, before she 
began to sing: 


58 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

“ Oh, little Boy Blue, lay by your horn. 

And mother will sing of the cows and the corn, 

Till the stars and the angels come to keep 
Their watch, where my baby lies fast asleep.” 

Now all of a sudden Jules knew that there 
was another kind of hunger worse than ihe 
longing for bread. He wanted the soft touch 
of those lips again on his mouth and eyelids, 
the loving pressure of those restful arms, a 
thousand times more than he had wished for 
the loaf that he had just brought home. Two 
hot tears, that made his eyes ache in their slow 
gathering, splashed down on the window-sill. 

Down below Henri opened the kitchen door 
and snapped his fingers to call the dog. Look- 
ing out, Jules saw him set a plate of bones on 
the step. For a moment he listened to the 
animal’s contented crunching, and then crept 
across the room to his cot, with a little moan. 
“ 0-o-oh — o-oh ! ” he sobbed. “ Even the dog 
has more than I have, and I’m so hungry ! ” 
He hid his head awhile in the old quilt ; then 
he raised it again, and, with the tears streaming 
down his thin little face, sobbed in a heart- 
broken whisper : Mother ! Mother ! Do you 
know how hungry I am ? ” 


BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 59 

A clatter of knives and forks from the kitchen 
below was the only answer, and he dropped 
despairingly down again. 

“ She’s so far away she can’t even hear me ! ” 
he moaned. “ Oh, if I could only be dead, too ! ” 

He lay there, crying, till Henri had finished 
washing the supper dishes and had put them 
clumsily away. The rank odor of tobacco, 
stealing up the stairs, told him that Brossard 
had settled down to enjoy his evening pipe. 
Through the casement window that was still 
ajar came the faint notes of an accordeon from 
Monsieur Greville’s garden, across the way. 
Gabriel, the coachman, was walking up and 
down in the moonlight, playing a wheezy 
accompaniment to the only song he knew. 
Jules did not notice it at first, but after 
awhile, when he had cried himself quiet, the 
faint melody began to steal soothingly into his 
consciousness. His eyelids closed drowsily, 
and then the accordeon seemed to be singing 
something to him. He could not understand 
at first, but just as he was dropping off to 
sleep he heard it quite clearly : 

“ Till the stars and the angels come to keep 
Their watch, where my baby lies fast asleep.” 


6o THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

T^ate in the night Jules awoke with a start, 
and sat up, wondering what had aroused him. 
He knew that it must be after midnight, for the 
moon was nearly down. Henri was snoring. 
Suddenly such a strong feeling of hunger came 
over him, that he could think of nothing else. 
It was like a gnawing pain. As if he were 
being led by some power outside of his own 
will, he slipped to the door of the room. The 
little bare feet made no noise on the carpetless 
floor. No mouse could have stolen down the 
stairs more silently than timid little Jules. The 
latch of the kitchen door gave a loud click 
that made him draw back with a shiver of 
alarm ; but that was all. After waiting one 
breathless minute, his heart beating like a 
trip-hammer, he went on into the pantry. 

The moon was so far down now, that only a 
white glimmer of light showed him the faint 
outline of things ; but his keen little nose 
guided him. There was half a cheese on the 
swinging shelf, with all the bread that had been 
left from supper. He broke off great pieces 
of each in eager haste. Then he found a crock 
of goat’s milk. Lifting it to his mouth, he 
drank with big, quick gulps until he had te 




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BEHIND THE GREAT GATE. 63 

Stop for breath. Just as he was about to raise 
it to his lips again, some instinct of danger 
made him look up. There in the doorway 
stood Brossard, bigger and darker and more 
threatening than he had ever seemed before. 

A frightened little gasp was all that the 
child had strength to give. He turned so sick 
and faint that his nerveless fingers could no 
longer hold the crock. It fell to the floor with 
a crash, and the milk spattered all over the 
pantry. Jules was too terrified to utter a 
sound. It was Brossard who made the out- 
cry. Jules could only shut his eyes and crouch 
down trembling, under the shelf. The next 
instant he was dragged out, and Brossard’s 
merciless strap fell again and again on the 
poor shrinking little body, that writhed under 
the cruel blows. 

Once more Jules dragged himself up-stairs 
to his cot, this time bruised and sore, too ex- 
hausted for tears, too hopeless to think of 
possible to-morrows. 

Poor little prince in the clutches of the ogre ! 
If only fairy tales might be true! If only 
some gracious spirit of elfin lore might really 
come at such a time with its magic wand of 


64 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

healing ! Then there would be no more little 
desolate hearts, no more grieved little faces 
with undried tears upon them in all the earth. 
Over every threshold where a child's wee 
feet had pattered in and found a home, it 
would hang its guardian Scissors of Avenging, 
so that only those who belong to the kingdom 
of loving hearts and gentle hands would ever 
dare to enter. 


CFIAPTER IV. 


A LETTER AND A MEETING. 

Nearly a week later Joyce sat at 'her desk> 
hurrying to finish a letter before the postman’s 
arrival. 

<‘Dear Jack,” it began. 

“ You and Mary will each get a letter this week. 
Hers is the fairy tale that Cousin Kate told me, about 
an old gate near here. I wrote it down as well as I 
could remember. I wish you could see that gate. It 
gets more interesting every day, and Td give most 
anything to see what lies on the other side. Maybe I 
shall soon, for Marie has a way of finding out anything 
she wants to know. Marie is my new maid. Cousin 
Kate went to Paris last week, to be gone until nearly 
Christmas, so she got Marie to take care of me. 

“ It seems so odd to have somebody button my boots 
and brush my hair, and take me out to walk as if I 
were a big doll. I have to be very dignified and act 
as if I had always been used to such things. I believe 

65 


k 


66 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 


Marie would be shocked to death if she knew that I 
had ever washed dishes, or pulled weeds out of the 
pavement, or romped with you in the barn. 

“Yesterday when we were out walking I got so tired 
of acting as if I were a hundred years old, that I felt as 
if I should scream. ‘Marie,’ I said, ‘I’ve a mind to 
throw my muff in the fence-corner and run and hang 
on behind that wagon that’s going down-hill.’ She had 
no idea ‘that I was in earnest. She just smiled very 
politely and said, ‘ Oh, mademoiselle, impossible ! How 
you Americans do love to jest.’ But it was no joke. 
You can’t imagine how stupid it is to be with nobody 
but grown people all the time. I’m fairly aching for a 
good old game of hi spy or prisoner’s base with you. 
There is nothing at all to do, but to take poky walks. 

“Yesterday afternoon we walked down to the river. 
There’s a double row of trees along it on this side, and 
several benches where people can wait for the tram- 
cars that pass down this street and then across the 
bridge into Tours. Marie found an old friend of hers 
sitting on one of the benches, — such a big fat woman, 
and oh, such a gossip ! Marie said she was tired, 
so we sat there a long time. Her friend’s name is 
Clotilde Robard. They talked about everybody in St. 
Symphorien. 

“ Then I gossiped, too. I asked Clotilde Robard if 
she knew why the gate with the big scissors was never 
opened any more. She told me that she used to be one 
of the maids there, before she married the spice-monger 
and was Madame Robard. Years before she went to 
live there, when the old Monsieur Ciseaux died, there 



OUT WITH MARIE. 




A LETTER AND A MEETING. , 69 

was a dreadful quarrel about some money. The son 
that got the property told his brother and sister never 
to darken his doors again. 

“ They went off to America, and that big front gate 
has never been opened since they passed out of it. 
Clotilde says that some people say that they put a curse 
on it, and something awful will happen to the first one 
who dares to go through. Isn’t that interesting? 

“ The oldest son, Mr. Martin Ciseaux, kept up the 
place for a long time, just as his father had done, bui 
he never married. All of a sudden he shut up the 
house, sent away all the servants but the two who take 
care of it, and went off to Algiers to live. Five years ago 
he came back to bring his little grand-nephew, but 
nobody has seen him since tlfet time. 

“ Clotilde says that an orphan asylum would have 
been a far better home for Jules (that is the boy’s name), 
for Brossard, the caretaker, is so mean to him. Doesn’t 
that make you think of Prince Ethelried in the fairy 
tale } ‘ Little and lorn ; no fireside welcomed him and 

no lips gave him a friendly greeting.’ 

“ Marie says that she has often seen Jules down in 
the field, back of his uncle’s house, tending the goats. 
I hope that I may see him sometime. 

“ Oh, dear, the postman has come sooner than I 
expected. He is talking down in the hall now, and if 
I do not post this letter now it will miss the evening 
train and be too late for the next mail steamer.' Tell 
mamma that I will answer all her questions about my 
lessons and . clothes next week. Oceans of love to 
everybody in the dear little brown house.” 


70 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Hastily scrawling her name, Joyce ran out 
into the hall with her letter. ‘‘Anything for 
me.^” she aslsed, anxiously, leaning over the 
banister to drop the letter into Marie’s hand. 
“One, mademohelle,” was the answer. “But 
it has not a foreign stamp.” 

“ Oh, from Cousin Kate ! ” exclaimed Joyce, 
tearing it open as she went back to her room. 
At the door she stooped to pick up a piece of 
paper that had dropped from the envelope. It 
crackled stiffly as she unfolded it. 

“ Money ! ” she exclaimed in surprise. “ A 
whole twenty franc note. What could Cousin 
Kate have sent it for ? ” The last page of the 
letter explained. 

“I have just remembered that December is not very 
far off, and that whatever little Christmas gifts we send 
home should soon be started on their way. Enclosed 
you will find twenty francs for your Christmas shopping. 
It is not much, but we are too far away to send any- 
thing but the simplest little remembrances, things that 
will not be spoiled in the mail, and on which little or no 
duty need be paid. You might buy one article each 
day, so that there will be some purpose in your walks 
into Tours. 

“ I am sorry that I can not be with you on Thanks- 
giving Day. We will have to drop it from our calendar 


A LETTER AND A MEETING. 7 1 

this year; not the thanksgiving itself, but the turkey 
and mince pie part. Suppose you take a few francs to 
give yourself some little treat to mark the day. I hope 
my dear little girl will not be homesick all by herself. 

I never should have left just at this time if it had not 
been very necessary.” 

Joyce smoothed out the bank-note and looked 
at it with sparkling eyes. Twenty whole 
francs ! The same as four dollars ! All the 
money that she had ever had in her whole life ' 
put together would not have amounted to that 
much. Dimes were scarce in the little brown 
house, and even pennies seldom found their 
way into the children’s hands when five pairs 
of little feet were always needing shoes, and 
five healthy appetites must be satisfied daily. 

All the time that Joyce was pinning her 
treasure securely in her pocket and putting on 
her hat and jacket, all the time that she was 
walking demurely down the road with Marie, 
she was planning different ways in which to 
spend her fortune. 

“ Mademoiselle is very quiet,” ventured 
Marie, remembering that one of her duties was 
to keep up an improving conversation with her 
little mistress. 


72 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

“Yes,” answered Joyce, half impatiently; 
‘‘I’ve got something so lovely to think about, 
that I’d like to go back and sit down in the 
garden and just think and think until dark, 
without being interrupted by anybody.” 

This was Marie’s opportunity. “ Then 
mademoiselle might not object to stopping in 
the garden of the villa which we are now ap- 
proaching,” she said. “ My friend, Clotilde 
Robard, is housekeeper there, and I have a 
very important message to deliver to her.” 

Joyce had no objection. “But, Marie,” she 
said, as she paused at the gate, “ I think I’ll not 
go in. It is so lovely and warm out here in 
the sun that I’ll just sit here on the steps and 
wait for you.” 

Five minutes went by and then ten. By 
that time Joyce had decided how to spend 
every centime in the whole twenty francs, and 
Marie had not returned. Another five minutes 
went by. It was dull, sitting there facing the 
lonely highway, down which no one ever seemed 
to pass. Joyce stood up, looked all around, and 
then slowly sauntered down the road a short 
distance. 

Here and there in the crevices of the wall 


A LETTER AND A MEETING. 73 

blossomed a few hardy wild flowers, which 
Joyce began to gather as she walked. I’ll go 
around this bend in the road and see what’s 
there,” she said to herself. ‘‘By that time 
Marie will surely be done with her messages.” 

No one was in sight in any direction, and 
feeling that no one could be in hearing distance, 
either, in such a deserted place, she began to 
sing. It was an old Mother Goose rhyme that 
she hummed over and over, in a low voice at 
first, but louder as she walked on. 

Around the bend in the road there was 
nothing to be seen but a lonely field where 
two goats were grazing. On one side of it 
was a stone wall, on two others a tall hedge, 
but the side next her sloped down to the road, 
unfenced. 

Joyce, with her hands filled with the yellow 
wild flowers, stood looking around her, sing- 
ing the old rhyme, the song that she had 
taught the baby to sing before he could talk 
plainly : 

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn, 

The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn. 

Little Blue Blue, oh, where are you ? 

Oh, where are you-u-u-u ? ” 


74 the gate of the giant scissors. 

The gay little voice that had been rising 
higher and higher, sweet as any bird’s, stopped 
suddenly in mid-air ; for, as if in answer to her 
call, there was a rustling just ahead of her, and 
a boy who had been lying on his back, looking 
at the sky, slowly raised himself out of the 
grass. 

For an instant Joyce was star^'led ; then see- 
ing by his wooden shoes and old blue cotton 
blouse that he was only a little peasant watch- 
ing the goats, she smiled at him with a pleasant 
good morning. 

He did not answer, but came towards her 
with a dazed expression on his face, as if he 
were groping his way through some strange 
dream. “ It is time to go in ! ” he exclaimed, 
as if repeating some lesson learned long ago, 
and half forgotten. 

Joyce stared at him in open-mouthed aston- 
ishment. The little fellow had spoken in Eng- 
lish. ** Oh, you must be Jules,” she cried. 
“ Aren’t you } I’ve been wanting to find you 
for ever so long.” 

The boy seemed frightened, and did not 
answer, only looked at her with big, troubled 
eyes. Thinking that she had made a mistake. 



“ HE CAME TOWARDS HER WITH A DAZED EXPRESSION 

ON HIS FACE.” 





A LETTER AND A MEETING. 7/ 

that she had not heard aright, Joyce spoke in 
French. He ansvvered her timidly. She had 
not been mistaken ; he was Jules ; he had been 
asleep, he told her, and when he heard her 
singing, he thought it was his mother calling 
him as she used to do, and had started up ex- 
pecting to see her at last. Where was she ? 
Did mademoiselle know her ? Surely she must 
if she knew the song. 

It was on the tip of Joyce’s tongue to tell 
him that everybody knew that song ; that it 
was as familiar to the children at home as the 
chirping of crickets on the hearth or the sight 
of dandelions in the spring-time. But some 
instinct warned her not to say it. She was 
glad afterwards, when she found that it was 
sacred to him, woven in as it was with his one 
beautiful memory of a home. It was all he 
had, and the few words that Joyce’s singing 
had startled from him were all that he remem- 
bered of his mother’s speech. 

If Joyce had happened upon him in any other 
way, it is doubtful if their acquaintance would 
have grown very rapidly. He was afraid of 
strangers; but coming as she did with the 
familiar song that was like an old friend, he 


75 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

felt that he must have known her sometime, — • 
that other time when there was always a sweet 
voice calling, and fireflies twinkled' across a 
dusky lawn. 

Joyce was not in a hurry for Marie to come 
now. She had a hundred questions to ask, and 
made the most of her time by talking very fast. 

Marie will be frightened,*’ she told Jules, 
‘‘ if she does not And me at the gate, and will 
think that the gypsies have stolen me. Then 
she will begin to hunt up and down the road, 
and I don’t know what she would say if she 
came and found me talking to a strange child 
out in the fields, so I must hurry back. I 
am glad that I found you. I have been wish- 
ing so long for somebody to play with, and 
you seem like an old friend because you were 
born in America. I’m going to ask ma- 
lame to ask Brossard to let you come over 
iometime.” 

Jules watched her as she hurried away, run- 
aing lightly down the road, her fair hair flying 
aver her shoulders and her short blue skirt 
fluttering. Once she looked back to wave her 
hand. Long after she was out of sight he still 
stood looking after her, as one might gaze long- 


A LETTER AND A MEETING. 


79 


ingly after some visitant from another world. 
Nothing like her had ever dropped into his life 
before, and he wondered if he should ever see 
her again. 


CHAPTER V. 

A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 

HIS doesn’t seem a 
bit like Thanksgiving 
Day, Marie,” said 
Joyce, plaintively, as 
she sat up in bed to 
le early breakfast that 
id brought in, — a cup 
olate and a roll. 

“ In our country the very 
minute you wake up you can feel that it is a 
holiday. Outdoors it’s nearly always cold and 
gray, with everything covered with snow. In- 
side you can smell turkey and pies and all 
sorts of good spicy things. Here it is so warm 
that the windows are open and flowers bloom- 
ing in the garden, and there isn’t a thing to 
make it seem different from any other old 
day.” 

bo 



A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 


8l 


Here her grumbling was interrupted by a 
knock at the door, and Madame Greville’s 
maid, Berthe, came in with a message. 

** Madame and monsieur intend spending the 
day in Tours, and since Mademoiselle Ware has 
written that Mademoiselle Joyce is to have no 
lessons on this American' holiday, they will be 
pleased to have her accompany them in the 
carriage. She can spend the morning with 
them there or return immediately with Ga- 
briel.” 

course I want to go,” cried Joyce. “I 
love to drive. But Td rather come back here 
to lunch and have it by myself in the garden. 
Berth6, ask madame if I can’t have it served 
in the little kiosk at the end of the arbor.” 

As soon as she had received a most gracious 
permission, Joyce began to make a little plan. 
It troubled her conscience somewhat, for she 
felt that she ought to mention it to madame, 
but she was almost certain that madame would 
object, and she had set her heart on carrying 
it out. 

won’t speak about it now,” she said to 
herself, « because I am not sure that I am 
going to do it. Mamma would think it was 


i52 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

all right, but foreigners are so queer about 
some things.” 

Uncertain as Joyce may have been about 
her future actions, as they drove towards town, 
no sooner had madame and monsieur stepped 
from the carriage, on the Rue Nationale, than 
she was perfectly sure. 

‘‘Stop at the baker’s, Gabriel,” she ordered 
as they turned homeward, then at the big 
grocery on the corner. “ Cousin Kate told 
me to treat myself to something nice,” she 
said apologetically to her conscience, as she 
gave up the twenty francs to the clerk to be 
changed. 

If Gabriel wondered what was in the little 
parcels which she brought back to the car- 
riage, he made no sign. He only touched his 
hat respectfully, as she gave the next order : 
“ Stop where the road turns by the cemetery, 
Gabriel ; at the house with the steps going up 
to an iron-barred gate. I’ll be back in two or 
three minutes,” she said, when she had reached 
it, and climbed from the carriage. 

To his surprise, instead of entering the gate, 
she hurried on past it, around the bend in the 
road. In a little while she came running back, 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. ' 83 

her shoes covered with damp earth, as if she 
had been walking in a freshly ploughed field. 

If Gabriel’s eyes could have followed her 
around that bend in the road, he would have 
seen a sight past his understanding : Mademoi- 
selle Joyce running at the top of her speed to 
meet a little goatherd in wooden shoes and 
blue cotton blouse, — a common little peasant 
goatherd. 

‘‘It’s Thanksgiving Day, Jules,” she an- 
nounced, gasping, as she sank down on the 
ground beside him. “We’re the only Ameri- 
cans here, and everybody has gone off ; and 
Cousin Kate said to celebrate in some way. 
I’m going to have a dinner in the garden. 
I’ve bought a rabbit, and we’ll dig a hole, 
and make a fire, and barbecue it the way Jack 
and I used to do at home. And we’ll roast 
eggs in the ashes, and have a fine time. I’ve 
got a lemon tart and a little iced fruit-cake, 
too.” 

All this was poured out in such breathless 
haste, and in such a confusion of tongues, first a 
sentence of English and then a word of French, 
that it is no wonder that Jules grew bewildered 
in trying to follow her. She had to begin 


84 the gate of the giant scissors. 

again at the beginning, and speak very slowly, 
in order to make him understand that it was a 
feast day of some kind, and that he, Jules, was 
invited to some sort of a strange, wonderful 
entertainment in Monsieur Greville’s garden. 
“ But Brossard is away from home,” said Jules, 
“and there is no one to watch the goats, and 
keep them from straying down the road. Still 
it would be just the same if he were home,” he 
added, sadly. “He would not let me go, I am 
sure. I have never been out of sight of that 
roof since I first came here, except on errands 
to the village, when I had to run all the way 
back.” He pointed to the peaked gables, 
adorned by the scissors of his crazy old 
ancestor. 

“Brossard isn’t your father,” cried Joyce, 
indignantly, “nor your uncle, nor your cousin, 
nor anything else that has a right to shut you 
up that way. Isn’t there a field with a fence 
all around it, that you could drive the goats 
into for a few hours .^” 

Jules shook his head. 

“ Well, I can’t have my Thanksgiving spoiled 
for just a couple of old goats,” exclaimed Joyce. 
“You’ll have to bring them along, and we’ll 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 85 

shut them up in the carriage-house. You 
come over in about an hour, and I’ll be at 
the side gate waiting for you.” 

Joyce had always been a general in her small 
way. She made her plans and issued her orders 
both at home and at school, and the children 
acc'epted her leadership as a matter of course. 
Even if Jules had not been willing and anxious 
to go, it is doubtful if he could have mustered 
courage to oppose the arrangements that she 
made in such a masterful way; but Jules had 
not the slightest wish to object to anything 
whatsoever that Joyce might propose. 

It is safe to say that the old garden had 
never before even dreamed of such a celebra- 
tion as the one that took place that afternoon 
behind its moss-coated walls. The time-stained 
statue of Eve, which stood on one side of the 
fountain, looked across at the weather-beaten 
figure of Adam, on the other side, in stony- 
eyed surprise. The little marble satyr in the 
middle of the fountain, which had been grin- 
ning ever since its endless shower-bath began, 
seemed to grin wider than ever, as it watched 
the children’s strange sport. 

Jules dug the little trench according to 


so THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Joyce’s directions, and laid the iron grating 
which she had borrowed from the cook across 
it, and built the fire underneath. '' We ought to 
have something especially patriotic and Thanks- 
givingey,” said Joyce, standing on one foot to 
consider. “ Oh, now I know,” she cried, after 
a moment’s thought. ‘‘ Cousin Kate has' a 
lovely big silk flag in the top of her trunk. 
I’ll run and get that, and then I’ll recite the 
< Landing of the Pilgrims ’ to you while the 
rabbit cooks.” 

Presently a savory odor began to steal along 
the winding paths of the garden, between the 
laurel-bushes, — a smell of barbecued meat sput- 
tering over the fire. Above the door of the 
little kiosk, with many a soft swish of silken 
stirrings, hung the beautiful old flag. Then 
a clear little voice floated up through the pine- 
trees : 

“ My country, ’tis of thee. 

Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing ! ” 

All the time that Joyce sang, she was mov- 
ing around the table, setting out the plates and 
rattling cups and saucers. She could not keep 
a little quaver out of her voice, for, as she went 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 87 

on, all the scenes of all the times that she had 
sung that song before came crowding up in her 
memory. There were the Thanksgiving days 
in the church at home, and the Washington’s 
birthdays at school, and two Decoration days, 
when, as a granddaughter of a veteran, she had 
helped scatter flowers over the soldiers’ graves. 

Somehow it made her feel so hopelessly far 
away from all that made life dear to be singing 
of that sweet land of liberty ” in a foreign 
country, with only poor little alien Jules for 
company. 

Maybe that is why the boy’s first lesson in 
patriotism was given so earnestly by his home- 
sick little teacher. Something that could not be 
put into words stirred within him, as, looking up 
at the soft silken flutterings of the old flag, he 
listened for the first time to the story of the 
Pilgrim Fathers. 

The rabbit cooked slowly, so slowly that there 
was time for Jules to learn how to play mumble- 
peg while they waited. At last it was done, and 
Joyce proudly plumped it into the platter that 
had been waiting for it. Marie had already 
brought out a bountiful lunch, cold meats and 
salad and a dainty pudding. By the time that 


88 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

¥ * 

Joyce had added her contribution to the feast, 
there was scarcely an inch of the table left 
uncovered. Jules did not know the names of 
half the dishes. 

Not many miles away from that old garden, 
scattered up and down the Loire throughout 
all the region of fair Tourraine, rise the turrets 
of many an old chateau. Great banquet halls, 
where kings and queens once feasted, still stand 
as silent witnesses of a gay bygone court life ; 
but never in any chateau or palace among them 
all was feast more thoroughly enjoyed than 
this impromptu dinner in the garden, where a 
little goatherd was the only guest. 

It was an enchanted spot to Jules, made so 
by the magic of Joyce’s wonderful gift of story- 
telling. For the first time in his life that he 
could remember, he heard of Santa Claus and 
Christmas trees, of Bluebeard and Aladdin’s 
lamp, and all the dear old fairy tales that were 
so entrancing he almost forgot to eat. 

Then they played that he was the prince, 
Prince Ethelried, and that the goats in the 
carriage-house were his royal steeds, and that 
Joyce was a queen whom he had come to visit. 

But it came to an end, as all beautiful things 



A LESSON IN PATRIOTISM 




A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 9 1 

must do. The bells in the village rang four, 
and Prince Ethelried started up as Cinderella 
must have done when the pumpkin coach dis- 
appeared. He was no longer a king’s son ; he 
was only Jules, the little goatherd, who must 
hurry back to the field before the coming of 
Brossard. 

Joyce went with him to the carriage-house. 
Together they swung open the great door. 
Then an exclamation of dismay fell from 
Joyce’s lips. All over the floor were scattered 
scraps of leather and cloth and hair, the kind 
used in upholstering. The goats had whiled 
away the hours of their imprisonment by chew- 
ing up the cushions of the pony cart. 

Jules turned pale with fright. Knowing so 
little of the world, he judged all grown people 
by his knowledge of Henri and Brossard. 

Oh, what will they do to us } ” he gasped. 

<< Nothing at all,” answered Joyce, bravely, 
although her heart beat twice as fast as usual 
as monsieur’s accusing face rose up before 
her. 

was all my fault,” said Jules, ready to 
cry. <‘What must I do.?” Joyce saw his 
distress, and with quick womanly tact recog 


92 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

nized her duty as hostess. It would never do to 
let this, his first Thanksgiving Day, be clouded 
by a single unhappy remembrance. She would 
pretend that it was a part of their last game ; 
so she waved her hand, and said, in a theatrical 
voice, You forget. Prince Ethelried, that in 
the castle of Irmingarde she rules supreme. 
If it is the pleasure of your royal steeds to 
feed upon cushions they shall not be denied, 
even thoigh they choose my own coach 
pillows, of gold-cloth and velour.” 

“ But what if Gabriel should tell Brossard } ” 
questioned Jules, his teeth almost chattering at 
the mere thought. 

“ Oh, never mind, Jules,” she answered, laugE 
ingly. ‘‘Don’t worry about a little thing like 
that. I’ll make it all right with madame as 
soon as she gets home.” 

Jules, with utmost faith in Joyce’s power to 
do anything that she might undertake, drew 
a long breath of relief. Half a dozen times 
between the gate and the lane that led into 
the Ciseaux field, he turned around to wave his 
old cap in answer to the hopeful flutter of her 
little white handkerchief ; but when he was 
out of sight she went back to the carriage- 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 93 

house and looked at the wreck of the cushions 
with a sinking heart.- After that second look, 
she was not so sure of making it all right with 
madam e. 

Going slowly up to her room, she curled up 
in the window-seat to wait for the sound of the 
carriage wheels. The blue parrots on the wall- 
paper sat in their blue hoops in straight rows 
from floor to ceiling, and hung all their dismal 
heads. It seemed to Joyce as if there were 
thousands of them, and that each one was more 
unhappy than any of the others. The blue roses 
on the bed-curtains, that had been in such gay 
blossom a few hours before, looked ugly and 
unnatural now. 

Over the mantel hung a picture that had 
been a pleasure to Joyce ever since she had 
taken up her abode in this quaint blue room. 
It was called ‘‘ A Message from Nod,” and 
showed an angel flying down with gifts to fill 
a pair of little wooden shoes that some child 
had put out on a window-sill below. When 
madame had explained that the little French 
children put out their shoes for Saint Nod 
to fill, instead of hanging stockings for Santa 
Claus, Joyce had been so charmed with the 


94 the gate of the giant scissors. 

picture that she declared that she intended to 
follow the French custom herself, this year. 

Now, even the picture looked different, since 
she had lost her joyful anticipations of Christ- 
mas. “ It is all No-el to me now,” she sobbed. 
‘‘No tree, no Santa Claus, and now, since the 
money must go to pay for the goats’ mischief, no 
presents for anybody in the dear little brown 
house at home, — not even mamma and the 
baby ! ” 

A big salty tear trickled down the side of 
Joyce’s nose and splashed on her hand; then 
another one. It was such a gloomy ending for 
her happy Thanksgiving Day. One consoling 
thought came to her in time to stop the deluge 
that threatened. “Anyway, Jules has had a 
good time for once in his life.” The thought 
cheered her so much that^ when Marie came in 
to light the lamps, Joyce was walking up and 
down the room with her hands behind her back, 
singing. 

As soon as she was dressed for dinner she 
went down-stairs, but found no one in the 
drawing-room. A small fire burned cozily on 
the hearth, for the November nights were grow- 
ing chilly. Joyce picked up a book and tried 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 95 

to read, but found herself looking towards the 
door fully as often as at the page before her. 
Presently she set her teeth together and swal- 
lowed hard, for there was a rustling in the hall. 
The portiere was pushed aside and madame 
swept into the room 
in a dinner-gown of 
dark red velvet. 

To Joyce’s waiting 
eyes she seemed more 
imposing, more ele- 
gant, and more unap- 
proachable than she 
had ever been before. 
At madame’s en- 
trance Joyce rose as 
usual, but when the 
red velvet train had 
swept on to a seat 
beside the fire, she still remained standing. 
Her lips seemed glued together after those 
first words of greeting. 

** Be seated, mademoiselle,” said the lady, 
with a graceful motion of her hand towards a 
chair. ‘‘ How have you enjoyed your holiday ? ” 
Joyce gave a final swallow of the choking 



go THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

lump in her throat, and began her humble coiv 
fession that she had framed up-stairs among 
the rows of dismal blue wall-paper parrots. She 
started with Clotilde Robard’s story of Jules, 
told of her accidental meeting with him, of all 
that she knew of his hard life with Brossard, 
and of her longing for some one to play with. 
Then she acknowledged that she had planned 
the barbecue secretly, fearing that madame 
would not allow her to invite the little goat- 
herd. At the conclusion, she opened the hand- 
kerchief which she had been holding tightly 
clenched in her hand, and poured its contents 
in the red velvet lap. 

‘‘There’s all that is left of my Christmas 
money,” she said, sadly, “ seventeen francs 
and two sous. If it isn’t enough to pay for the 
cushions. I’ll write to Cousin Kate, and maybe 
she will lend me the rest.” 

Madame gathered up the handful of coin, 
and slowly rose. “ It is only a step to the car- 
riage-house,” she said. “If you will kindly 
ring for Berthd to bring a lamp we will look to 
see how much damage has been done.” 

It was an unusual procession that filed down 
the garden walk a few minutes later. First 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 97 

came Berths, in her black dress and white cap, 
holding a lamp high above her head, and screw- 
ing her forehead into a mass of wrinkles as she 
peered out into the surrounding darkness. 
After her came madame, holding up her dress 
and stepping daintily along in her high-heeled 
little slippers. Joyce brought up the rear, 
stumbling along in the darkness of madame’s 
large shadow, so absorbed in her troubles that 
she did not see the amused expression on the 
face of the grinning satyr in the fountain. 

Eve, looking across at Adam, seemed to wink 
one of her stony eyes, as much as to say, 
** Humph ! Somebody else has been getting 
into trouble. There’s more kinds of forbidden 
fruit than one ; pony-cart cushions, for in- 
stance.” 

Berthe opened the door, and madame stepped 
inside the carriage-house. With her skirts 
held high in both hands, she moved around 
among the wreck of the cushions, turning over 
a bit with the toe of her slipper now and then. 

Madame wore velvet dinner-gowns, it is true, 
and her house was elegant in its fine old fur- 
nishings bought generations ago ; but only her 
dressmaker and herself knew how many times 


98 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

those gowns had been ripped and cleaned and 
remodelled. It was only constant housewifely 
skill that kept the antique furniture repaired 
and the ancient brocade hangings from falling 
into holes. None but a French woman, trained 
in petty economies, could have guessed how 
little money and how much thought was spent 
in keeping her table up to its high standard of 
excellence. 

Now as she looked and estimated, counting 
the fingers of one hand with the thumb of the 
other, a wish stirred in her kind old heart that 
she need not take the child’s money ; but new 
cushions must be bought, and she must be just 
to herself before she could be generous to 
others. So she went on with her estimating 
and counting, and then called Gabriel to con- 
sult with him. 

Much of the same hair can be used again,” 
she said, finally, “ and the cushions were partly 
worn, so that it would not be right for you to 
have to bear the whole expense of new ones. 
I shall keep sixteen, — no, I shall keep only 
fifteen francs of your money, mademoiselle. I 
am sorry to take any of it, since you have been 
so frank with me ; but you must see that it 


A THANKSGIVING BARBECUE. 99 

would not be justice for me to have to suffer in 
consequence of your fault. In France, children 
do nothing without the permission of their 
elders, and it would be well for you to adopt 
the same rule, my dear mademoiselle.” 

Here she dropped two francs and two sous 
into Joyce’s hand. It was more than she had 
dared to hope for. Now there would be at 
least a little picture-book apiece for the chil- 
dren at home. 

This time Joyce saw the grin on the satyr’s 
face when they passed the fountain. She was 
smiling herself when they entered the house, 
where monsieur was waiting to escort them 
politely in to dinner. 


CHAPTER VI. 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. 

Monsieur Ciseaux was coming home to live. 
Gabriel brought the news when he came back 
from market. He had met Henri on the road 
and heard it from him. Monsieur was coming 
home. That was all they knew ; as to the day 
or the hour, no one could guess. That was the 
way with monsieur, Henri said. He was so 
peculiar one never knew what to expect. 

Although the work of opening the great 
house was begun immediately, and a thorough 
cleaning was in progress from garret to cellar, 
Brossard did not believe that his master would 
really be at home before the end of the week. 
He made his own plans accordingly, although 
he hurried Henri relentlessly with the cleaning. 

As soon as Joyce heard the news she made 
an excuse to slip away, and ran down to the 
field to Jules. She found him paler than 
100 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. 


lOI 


usual, and there wag i swollen look about his 
eyes that made her think that maybe he had 
been crying. 

What’s the matter } ” she asked. « ArenV 
you glad that your uncle is coming home .? ” 

Jules gave a cautious glance over his shoulder 
towards the house, and then looked up at Joyce. 
Heretofore, some inward monitor of pride had 
closed his lips about himself whenever he had 
been with her, but, since the Thanksgiving Day 
that had made them such firm friends, he had 
wished every hour that he could tell her of his 
troubles. He felt that she was the only person 
in the world who took any interest in him. 
Although she was only three years older than 
himself, she had that motherly little way with 
her that eldest daughters are apt to acquire 
when there is a whole brood of little brothers 
and sisters constantly claiming attention. 

So when Joyce asked again, ‘‘What’s the 
matter, Jules with so much anxious sym- 
pathy in her face and voice, the child found 
himself blurting out the truth. 

“Brossard beat me again last night,” he 
exclaimed. Then, in response to her indignant 
exclamation, he poured out the whole story of 


102 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

his ill-treatment. “ See here ! ” he cried, in 
conclusion, unbuttoning his blouse and baring 
his thin little shoulders. Great red welts lay 
across them, and one arm was blue with a big 
mottled bruise. 

Joyce shivered and closed her eyes an instant 
to shut out the sight that brought the quick 
tears of sympathy. 

“ Oh, you poor little thing ! ” she cried. “ I’m 
going to tell madame.” 

*‘No, don’t!” begged Jules. Brossard 

ever found out that I had told anybody, I 
believe that he would half kill me. He pun- 
ishes me for the least thing. I had no break- 
fast this morning because I dropped an old 
plate and broke it.” 

‘^Do you mean to say,” cried Joyce, ‘‘that 
you have been out here in the field since sun- 
rise without a bite to eat } ” 

Jules nodded. 

“Then I’m going straight home to get you 
something.” Before he could answer she was 
darting over the fields like a little flying squirrel. 

“ Oh, what if it were Jack!” she kept repeat- 
ing as she ran. “Dear old Jack, beaten and 
starved, without anybody to love him or say a 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. IO3 

kind word to him.” The mere thought of such 
misfortune brought a sob. 

In a very few minutes Jules saw her coming 
across the field again, more slowly this time, 
for both hands were full, and without their aid 
she had no way to steady the big hat that 
flapped forward into her eyes at every step. 
Jules eyed the food ravenously. He had not 
known how weak and hungry he was until 
then. 

‘‘ It will not be like this when your uncle 
comes home,” said Joyce, as she watched the 
big mouthfuls disappear down the grateful 
little throat. Jules shrugged his shoulders, 
answering tremulously, “ Oh, yes, it will be lots 
worse. Brossard says that my Uncle Martin 
has a terrible temper, and that he turned his 
poor sister and my grandfather out of the 
house one stormy might. Brossard says he 
shall tell him how troublesome I am, and 
likely he will turn me out, too. Or, if he 
doesn’t do that, they will both whip me every 
day.” 

Joyce stamped her foot. “ I don’t believe 
it/’ she cried, indignantly. “ Brossard is only 
trying to scare you. Your uncle is an old man 


104 the gate of the giant scissors. 

now, so old that he must be sorry for the way 
he acted when he was young. Why, of course 
he must be,” she repeated, ‘‘or he never would 
have brought you here when you were left a 
homeless baby. More than that, I believe he 
will be angry when he finds how you have been 
treated. Maybe he will send Brossard away 
when you tell him.” 

“I would not dare to tell him,” said Jules, 
shrinking back at the bare suggestion. 

“Then / dare,” cried Joyce with flashing 
eyes. “ I am not afraid of Brossard or Henri 
or your uncle, or any man that I ever knew. 
What’s more, I intend to march over here 
just as soon as your uncle comes home, and tell 
him right before Brossard how you have been 
treated.” 

Jules gasped in admiration of such reckless 
courage. “ Seems to me Brossard himself 
would be afraid of you if you looked at him 
that way.” Then his voice sank to a whisper. 
“ Brossard is afraid of one thing. I’ve heard 
him tell Henri so, and that is ghosts. They 
talk about them every night when the wind 
blows hard and makes queer noises in the 
chimney. Sometimes they are afraid to put 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. IO5 

out their candles for fear some evil spirit 
might be in the room.” 

I’m glad he is afraid of something, the 
' mean old thing!” exclaimed Joyce. For a 
few moments nothing more was said, but 
Jules felt comforted now that he had unbur- 
dened his long pent up little heart. He 
reached out for several blades of grass and 
began idly twisting them around his finger. 

Joyce sat with her hands clasped over her 
knees, and a wicked little gleam in her eyes 
that boded mischief. Presently she giggled 
as if some amusing thought had occurred to 
her, and when Jules looked up inquiringly she 
began noiselessly clapping her hands together. 

“ I’ve thought of the best thing,” she said. 
“I’ll fix old Brossard now. Jack and I have 
played ghost many a time, and have even 
scared each other while we were doing it, 
because we were so frightful-looking. We 
put long sheets all over us and went about 
with pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns on our heads. 
Oh, we looked awful, all in white, with fire 
shining out of those hideous eyes and mouths. 
If I knew when Brossard was likely to whip 
you again, I’d suddenly appear on the scene 


I06 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

and shriek out like a banshee and make him 
stop. Wouldn’t it be lovely ? ” she cried, 
more carried away with the idea the longer 
she thought of it. ‘‘Why, it would be like 
acting our fairy story. You are the Prince, 
and I will be the giant scissors and rescue 
you from the Ogre. Now let me see if I 
can think of a rhyme for you to say when- 
ever you need me.” 

Joyce put her hands over her ears and began 
to mumble something that had no meaning 
whatever for Jules : “ Ghost — post — roast — 
toast, — no that will never do ; need — speed 
deed, — no ! Help — yelp (I wish I could make 
him yelp), — friend — spend — lend, — that’s it. 
I shall try that.” 

There was a long silence, during which Joyce 
whispered to herself with closed eyes. “ Now 
I’ve got it,” she announced, triumphantly, “ and 
it’s every bit as good as Cousin Kate’s : 

« Giant scissors, fearless friend, 

Hasten, pray, thy aid to lend 

“ If you could just say that loud enough for 
me to hear I’d come rushing in and save you.” 

Jules repeated the rhyme several times, until 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. IO7 

he was sure that he could remember it, and 
then Joyce stood up to go. 

“Good-by, fearless friend,” said Jules. “I 
wish I were brave like you.” Joyce smiled 
in a superior sort of way, much flattered by 
the new title. Going home across the field 
she held her head a trifle higher than usual, 
and carried on an imaginary conversation with 
Brossard, in which she made him quail before 
her scathing rebukes. 

Joyce did not take her usual walk that after- 
noon. She spent the time behind locked doors 
busy with paste, scissors, and a big muff-box, 
the best foundation she could find for a jack- 
o’-lantern. First she covered the box with 
white paper and cut a hideous face in one 
side, — great staring eyes, and a frightful 
grinning mouth. With a bit of wire she 
fastened a candle inside and shut down the 
lid. 

“ Looks too much like a box yet,” she said, 
after a critical examination. “ It needs some 
hair and a beard. Wonder what ' I can make 
it of.” She glanced all around the room for a 
suggestion, and then closed her eyes to think. 
Finally she went over to her bed, and, turning 


I08 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 


the covers back from one corner, began ripping 
a seam in the mattress. When the opening 
was wide enough she put in her thumb and 
finger and pulled out a handful of the curled 
hair. “ I can easily put it back when I have 
used it, and sew up the hole 
in the mattress,” she said to 
her conscience. “ My ! This 
is exactly what I needed.” 
The hair was mixed, 
white and black, 
coarse and curly as 
a negro’s wool. 

She covered the top 
of the pasteboard head 
with it, and was so 
pleased that she added 
long beard and fierce 
mustache to the al- 
ready hideous mouth. When that was all 
done she took it into a dark closet and 
lighted the candle. The monster’s head 
glared at her from the depth of the closet, 
and she skipped back and forth in front of it, 
wringing her hands, in delight. 

“ Oh, if Jack could only see it ! If he could 



JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. IO9 

only see it ! ’' she kept exclaiming. It is 
better than any pumpkin head we ever made, 
and scary enough to throw old Brossard into a 
fit. I can hardly wait until it is dark enough 
to go over.” 

Meanwhile the short winter day drew on 
towards the close. Jules, out in the field with 
the goats, walked back and forth, back and forth, 
trying to keep warm. Brossard, who had gone 
five miles down the Paris road to bargain about 
some grain, sat comfortably in a little tobacco 
shop, with a pipe in his mouth and a glass and 
bottle on the table at his elbow. Henri was 
at home, still scrubbing and cleaning. The 
front of the great house was in order, with 
even the fires laid on all the hearths ready 
for lighting. Now he was scrubbing the back 
stairs. His brush bumped noisily against the 
steps, and the sound of its scouring was nearly 
drowned by the jerky tune which the old fellow 
sung through his nose as he worked. 

A carriage drove slowly down the road and 
stopped at the gate with the scissors ; then, in 
obedience to some command from within, the 
vehicle drove on to the smaller gate beyond. 
An old man with white hair and bristling 


no THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

mustache slowly alighted. The master had 
come home. He put out his hand as if to 
ring the bell, then on second thought drew 
a key from his pocket and fitted it in the 
lock. The gate swung back and he passed 
inside. The old house looked gray and for- 
bidding in the dull light of the late afternoon. 
He frowned up at it, and it frowned down on 
him, standing there as cold and grim as itself. 
That was his only welcome. 

The doors and windows were all shut, so 
that he caught only a faint sound of the 
bump, thump of the scrubbing-brush as it 
accompanied Henri’s high-pitched tune down 
the back stairs. 

Without giving any warning of his arrival, he 
motioned the man beside the coachman to fol- 
low with his trunk, and silently led the way 
up-stairs. When the trunk had been unstrapped 
and the man had departed, monsieui gave one 
slow glance all around the room. It was in 
perfect readiness for him: He set a match to 
the kindling laid in the grate, and then closed 
the door into the hall. The master had come 
home again, more silent, more mysterious in 
his movements than before. 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. 1 1 j 

Henri finished his scrubbing and his song, 
and, going down into the kitchen, began prep- 
arations for supper. A long time after, Jules 
came up from the field, put the goats in 
their place, and crept in behind the kitchen 
stove. 

Then it was that Joyce, from her watch-tower 
of her window, saw Brossard driving home in 
the market-cart. Maybe I’ll have a chance 
to scare him while he is putting the horse up 
and feeding it,” she thought. It was in the 
dim gloaming when she could easily slip along 
by the hedges without attracting attention. 
Bareheaded, and in breathless haste to reach 
the barn before Brossard, she ran down the 
road, keeping close to the hedge, along which 
the wind raced also, blowing the dead leaves 
almost as high as her head. 

Slipping through a hole in the hedge, just 
as Brossard drove in at the gate, she ran into 
the barn and crouched down behind the door. 
There she wrapped herself in the sheet that she 
had brought with her for the purpose, and pro- 
ceeded to strike a match to light the lantern. 
The first one flickered and went out. The 
second did the ‘■jame. Brossard was calling 


1 12 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

angrily for Jules now, and she struck another 
match in nervous haste, this time touching the 
wick with it before the wind could interfere. 
Then she drew her dress over the lantern to 
hide the light. 

“ Wouldn’t Jack enjoy this,” she thought, 
with a daring little giggle that almost betrayed 
her hiding-place. 

I tell thee it is thy fault,” cried Brossard’s 
angry voice, drawing nearer the barn. 

But I tried,” began Jules, timidly. 

His trembling excuse was interrupted by 
Erossard, who had seized him by the arm. 
They were now on the threshold of the barn, 
which was as dark as a pocket inside. 

Joyce, peeping through the crack of the door, 
saw the man’s arm raised in the dim twilight 
outside. Oh, he is really going to beat him,” 
she thought, turning faint at the prospect. Then 
her indignation overcame every other feeling as 
she heard a heavy halter-strap whiz through the 
air and fall with a sickening blow across Jules’s 
shoulders. She had planned a scene something 
like this while she worked away at the lantern 
that afternoon. Now she felt as if she were 
acting a part in some private theatrical perform- 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. II3 

ance. Jules’s cry gave her the cue, and the 
courage to appear. 

As the second blow fell across Jules’s smart- 
ing shoulders, a low, blood-curdling wail came 
from the dark depths of the barn. Joyce had 
not practised that dismal moan of a banshee to 
no purpose in her ghost dances at home with 
Jack. It rose and fell and quivered and rose 
again in cadences of horror. There was some- 
thing awful, something inhuman, in that fiendish, 
long-drawn shriek. 

Brossard’s arm fell to his side paralyzed with 
fear, as that same hoarse voice cried, solemnly : 

Brossard, beware ! Beware ! ” But worse than 
that voice of sepulchral warning was the white- 
sheeted figure, coming towards him with a wav- 
ering, ghostly motion, fire shooting from the 
demon-like eyes, and flaming from the hideous 
mouth. 

Brossard sank on his knees in a shivering 
heap, and began crossing himself. His hair 
was upright with horror, and his tongue stiff. 
Jules knew who it was that danced around 
them in such giddy circles, first darting towards 
them with threatening gestures, and then glid- 
ing back to utter one of those awful, sickening 


1 14 the gate of the giant scissors. 

wails. He knew that under that fiery head and 
wrapped in that spectral dress was his fearless 
friend,” who, according to promise, had hastened 
her aid to lend ; nevertheless, he was afraid of 
her himself. He had never imagined that 
anything could look so terrifying. 

The wail reached Henri’s ears and aroused 
his curiosity. Cautiously opening the kitchen 
door, he thrust out his head, and then nearly 
fell backward in his haste to draw it in again 
and slam the door. One glimpse of the 
ghost in the barnyard was quite enough for 
Henri. 

Altogether the performance probably did not 
last longer than a minute, but each of the sixty 
seconds seemed endless to Brossard. With a 
final die-away moan Joyce glided towards the 
gate, delighted beyond measure with her suc- 
cess ; but her delight did not last long. Just 
as she turned the corner of the house, some 
one standing in the shadow of it clutched her. 
A strong arm was thrown around her, and a 
firm hand snatched the lantern, and tore the 
sheet away from her face. 

It was Joyce’s turn to be terrified. ‘‘ Let me 
go ! ” she shrieked, in English. With one des- 



“‘BROSSARD, BEWARE 1 BEWARE T” 




JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. 


II7 


perate wrench she broke away, and by the light 
of the grinning jack-o’-lantern saw who was her 
raptor. She was face to face with Monsieur 
Ciseaux. 

“ What does this mean } ” he asked, severely. 
‘‘Why do you come masquerading here to 
frighten my servants in this manner ? ” 

For an instant Joyce stood speechless. Her 
boasted courage had forsaken her. It was only 
for an instant, however, for the rhyme that 
she had made seemed to sound in her ears as 
distinctly as if Jules were calling to her; 

“ Giant scissors, fearless friend, 

Hasten, pray, thy aid to lend.” 

“I will be a fearless friend,’' she thought. 
Looking defiantly up into the angry face she 
demanded : “ Then why do you keep such ser- 
vants ^ I came because they needed to be 
frightened, and I’m glad you caught me, for I 
told Jules that I should tell yuU about them as 
soon as you got home. Brossard has starved 
and beaten him like a dog ever since he has 
been here. I just hope that you will look at 
the stripes and bruises on his poor little back. 
He begged me not to tell, for Brossard said you 


II» THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

would likely drive him away, as you did youf 
brother and sister. But even if you do, the 
neighbors say that an orphan asylum would be 
a far better home for Jules than this has been. 
I hope you’ll excuse me, monsieur, I truly do, 
but I’m an American, and I can’t stand by and 
keep still when I see anybody being abused, 
even if I am a girl, and it isn’t polite for me to 
talk so to older people.” 

Joyce fired out the words as if they had been 
bullets, and so rapidly that monsieur could 
scarcely follow her meaning. Then, having 
relieved her mind, and fearing that maybe she 
had been rude in speaking so forcibly to such 
an old gentleman, she very humbly begged his 
pardon. Before he could recover from her 
rapid change in manner and her torrent of 
words, she reached out her hand, saying, in the 
meekest of little voices, And will you please 
give me back those things, monsieur ? The 
sheet is Madame Greville’s, and I’ve got to 
stuff that hair back in the mattress to-night.” 

Monsieur gave them to her, still too aston- 
ished for words. He had never before heard 
any child speak in such a way. This one 
seemed more like a wild, uncanny little sprite 


JOYCE PLAYS GHOST. 


II9 

than like any of the little girls he had known 
heretofore. Before he could recover from his 
bewilderment, Joyce had gone. “ Good night, 
monsieur,” she called, as the gate clanged 
behind her. 


CHAPTER VII. 


OLD “NUMBER THIRTY - ONE.^* 

No sooner had the gate closed upon the 
subdued little ghost, shorn now of its terrors, 
than the old man strode forward to the place 
where Brossard crouched in the straw, still 
crossing himself. This sudden appearance of 
his master at such a time only added to Bros- 
sard’s fright. As for Jules, his knees shook 
until he could scarcely stand. 

Henri, his curiosity lending him courage, 
cautiously opened the kitchen door to peer out 
again. Emboldened by the silence, he flung 
the door wide open, sending a broad stream of 
lamplight across the little group in the barnyard. 
Without a word of greeting monsieur laid hold 
of the trembling Jules and drew him nearer 
the door. Throwing open the child’s blouse, 
he examined the thin little shoulders, which 
^120 


OLD ** NUMBER THIRTY - ONE/' 


I2I 


shrank away as if to dodge some expected 
blow. 

Go to my room,” was all the old man said 
to him. Then he turned fiercely towards Bros* 



sard. His angry tones reached Jules even after 
he had mounted the stairs and closed the door. 
The child crept close to the cheerful fire, and, 
crouching down on the rug, waited in a shiver 
of nervousness for his uncle’s step on the 
stair. 


122 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Meanwhile, Joyce, hurrying home all a-tingle 
with the excitement of her adventure, wondered 
anxiously what would be the result of it. Under 
cover of the dusk she slipped into the house un- 
observed. There was barely time to dress for 
dinner. When she made her appearance mon- 
sieur complimented her unusually red cheeks. 

‘‘ Doubtless mademoiselle has had a fine 
promenade,” he said. 

**No,” answered Joyce, with a blush that 
made them redder still, and that caused ma- 
dame to look at her so keenly that she felt 
those sharp eyes must be reading her inmost 
thoughts. It disturbed her so that she upset 
the salt, spilled a glass of water, and started to 
eat her soup with a fork. She glanced in an 
embarrassed way from madame to monsieur, 
and gave a nervous little laugh. 

“The little mademoiselle has been in mis^ 
chief again,” remarked monsieur, with a smile. 
“ What is it this time ? ” 

The smile was so encouraging that Joyce’s 
determination not to tell melted away, and she 
began a laughable account of the afternoon’s 
adventure. At first both the old people looked 
ohocked. Monsieur shrugged his shoulders and 


OLD “NUMBER THIRTY - ONE.’' 123 

pulled his gray beard thoughtfully. Madame 
threw up her hands at the end of each sen- 
tence like horrified little exclamation points. 
But when Joyce had told the entire story 
neither of them had a word of blame, because 
their sympathies were so thoroughly aroused 
for Jules. 

“ I shall ask Monsieur Ciseaux to allow the 
child to visit here sometimes,” said madame, 
her kind old heart full of pity for the mother- 
less little fellow ; “ and I shall also explain that 
it was only your desire to save Jules from 
ill treatment that caused you to do such an 
unusual thing. Otherwise he might think you 
too bold and too — well, peculiar, to be a fit 
playmate for his little nephew.” 

“ Oh, was it really so improper and horrid of 
me, madame ? ” asked Joyce, anxiously. 

Madame hesitated. “ The circumstances were 
some excuse,” she finally admitted. “But I 
certainly should not want a little daughter of 
mine to be out after dark by herself on such 
a wild errand. In this country a little girl 
would not think it possible to do such a thing.” 

Joyce’s face was very sober as she arose to 
leave the room. ‘‘I do wish that I could bc 


124 the gate of the giant scissors. 

proper like little French girls/' she saidj with 
a sigh. 

Madame drew her towards her, kissing her 
on both cheeks. It was such an unusual thing 
for madame to do that Joyce could scarcely 
help showing some surprise. Feeling that the 
caress was an assurance that she was not in 
disgrace, as she had feared, she ran up-stairs, 
so light-hearted that she sang on the way. 

As the door closed behind her, monsieur 
reached for his pipe, saying, as he did so, She 
has a heart of gold, the little mademoiselle.” 

‘‘Yes,” assented madame; “but she is a 
strange little body, so untamed and original. 
I am glad that her cousin returns soon, for the 
responsibility is too great for my old shoulders. 
One never knows what she will do next.” 

Perhaps it was for this reason that madame 
took Joyce with her when she went to Tours 
next day. She felt safer when the child was 
in her sight. 

“ It is so much nicer going around with you 
than Marie,” said Joyce, giving madame an 
affectionate little pat, as they stood before the 
entrance of a great square building, awaiting 
admission. “You take me to places that I 


OLD NUMBER THIRTY - ONE.** 1 25 

have never seen before. vVhat place is this } ’* 
She stooped to read the inscription on the 
door-plate : 

“LITTLE SISTERS OF THE POOR.’* 

Before her question could be answered, the 
door was opened by a wrinkled old woman, in a 
nodding white cap, who led them into a recep- 
tion-room at the end of the hall. 

“ Ask for Sister Denisa,” said madame, “ and 
give her my name.” 

The old woman shuffled out of the room, 
and madame, taking a small memorandum book 
from her pocket, began to study it. Joyce sat 
looking about her with sharp, curious glances. 
She wondered if these little sisters of the poor 
were barefoot beggar girls, who went about the 
streets with ragged shawls over their heads, 
and with baskets in their hands. In her lively 
imagination she pictured row after row of such 
unfortunate children, marching out in the morn- 
ing, empty-handed, and creeping back at night 
with the results of the day’s begging. She did 
not like to ask about them, however, and, in a 
few minutes, her curiosity was satisfied without 
the use of questions. 


126 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Sister Denisa entered the room. She was a 
beautiful woman, in the plain black habit and 
vdiite head-dress of a sister of charity. 

‘‘Oh, they’re nuns!” exclaimed Joyce, in a 
disappointed whisper. She had been hoping to 
see the beggar girls. She had often passed the 
convent in St. Symphorien, and caught glimpses 
of the nuns, through the high barred gate. She 
had wondered how it must feel to be shut away 
from the world ; to see only the patient white 
faces of the other sisters, and to walk with 
meekly folded hands and downcast eyes always 
in the same old paths. 

But Sister Denisa was different from the 
nuns that she had seen before. Some inward 
joy seemed to shine through her beautiful face 
and make it radiant. She laughed often, and 
there was a happy twinkle in her clear, gray 
eyes. When she came into the room, she 
seemed to bring the outdoors with her, there 
was such sunshine and fresh air in the cheeri- 
ness of her greeting. 

Madame had come to visit an old pensioner 
of hers who was in the home. After a short 
conversation, Sister Denisa rose to lead the 
way to her. “Would the little mademoiselle 



JOYCE AND SISTER DENISA. 




OLD ** NUMBER THIRTY - ONE.’" 1 29 

like to go through the house while madame 
is engaged?” asked the nun. 

Oh, yes, thank you,” answered Joyce, who 
had found by this time that this home was not 
for little beggar girls, but for^ old men and 
women. J oyce had known very few old people 
h her short life, except her Grandmother Ware ; 
md this grandmother was one of those dear, 
sunny old souls, whom everybody loves to 
claim, whether they are in the family or not. 
Some of Joyce’s happiest days had been spent 
in her grandmother’s country home, and the 
host of happy memories that she had stored 
up during those visits served to sweeten all 
her after life. 

Old age, to Joyce, was associated with the 
most beautiful things that she had ever known : 
the warmest hospitality, the tenderest love, the 
cheeriest home-life. Strangers were in the old 
place now, and Grandmother Ware was no 
longer living, but, for her sake, Joyce held 
sacred every wrinkled face set round with 
snow-white hair, just as she looked tenderly 
on all old-fashioned flowers, because she had 
seen them first in her grandmother’s garden. 

Sister Denisa led the way into a large, sunny 


i'30 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

room, and Joyce looked around eagerly. It 
was crowded with old men. Some were sit- 
ting idly on the benches arouad the walls, or 
dozing in chairs near the stove. Some smoked, 
some gathered around the tables where games 
of checkers and chess were going on ; some 
gazed listlessly out of the windows. It was 
good to see how dull faces brightened, as 
Sister Denisa passed by with a smile for this 
group, a cheery word for the next. She 
stopped to brush the hair back from the fore- 
head of an old paralytic, and pushed another 
man gently aside, when he blocked the way, 
with such a sweet-voiced “Pardon, little father,” 
that it was like a caress. One white-haired old 
fellow, in his second childhood, reached out and 
caught at her dress, as she passed by. 

Crossing a porch where were more old men 
sitting sadly alone, or walking sociably up and 
down in the sunshine. Sister Denisa passed 
along a court and held the door open for Joyce 
to enter another large room. 

“ Here is the rest of our family,” she said. 
“ A large one, is it not ? Two hundred poor 
old people that nobody wants, and nobody 
cares what becomes of.” 


OLD ‘‘NUMBER THIRTY - ONE." 131 

Joyce looked around the room and saw on 
every hand old age that had nothing beautiful, 
nothing attractive. “ Were they beggars when 
they were little .? " she asked. 

“No, indeed," answered the nun. “That is 
the saddest part of it to me. Nearly all these 
poor creatures you see here once had happy 
homes of their own. That pitiful old body 
over by the stove, shaking with palsy, was 
once a gay, rich countess ; the invalid whom 
madame visits was a marquise. It would break 
your heart, mademoiselle, to hear the stories of 
some of these people, especially those who have 
been cast aside by ungrateful children, to whom 
their support has become a burden. Several of 
these women have prosperous grandchildren, to 
whom we have appealed in vain. There is no 
cruelty that hurts me like such cruelty to old 
age." 

Just then another nun came into the room, said 
something to Sister Denisa in a low voice, and 
glided out like a silent shadow, her rosary sway- 
ing hack and forth with every movement of her 
clinging black skirts. “ I am needed up-stairs," 
said Sister Denisa, turning to Joyce. “ Will 
you come up and see the sleeping-rooms ? " 


132 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SdSSORS. 

They went up the freshly scrubbed steps to 
a great dormitory, where, against the bare walls, 
stood long rows of narrow cots. They were all 
empty, except one at the farthest end, where 
an old woman lay with her handkerchief across 
her eyes. 

*‘Poor old Number Thirty-one!” said Sister 
Denisa. “ She seems to feel her unhappy 
position more than any one in the house. 
The most of them are thankful for mere 
bodily comfort, — satisfied with food and shel- 
ter and warmth ; but she is continually pining 
for her old home surroundings. Will you not 
come and speak to her in English ? She mar- 
ried a countryman of yours, and lived over 
thirty years in America. She speaks of that 
time as the happiest in her life. I am sure 
that you can give her a great deal of pleasure.” 

‘‘Is she ill ” said Joyce, timidly drawing 
back as the nun started across the room. 

“ No, I think not,” was the answer. “ She 
says she can’t bear to be herded in one room 
with all those poor creatures, like a flock of 
sheep, with nothing to do but wait for death. 
She has always been accustomed to having a 
room of her own, so that her greatek trial is 


OLD “NUMBER THIRTY -ONE." 1 33 

in having no privacy. She must eat, sleep, and 
live with a hundred other old women always 
around her. She comes up here to bed when- 
ever she can find the slightest ache for an 
excuse, just to be by herself. I wish that 
we could give her a little spot that she could 
call her own, and shut the door on, and feel 
alone. But it cannot be," she added, with a 
sigh. “ It taxes our strength to the utmost to 
give them all even a bare home." 

By this time they had reached the cot, over 
the head of which hung a card, bearing the 
number “ Thirty-one." 

“ Here is a little friend to see you, grand- 
mother," said Sister Denisa, placing a chair by 
the bedside, and stooping to smooth back the 
locks of silvery hair that had strayed out from 
under the coarse white night-cap. Then she 
passed quickly on to her other duties, leaving 
Joyce to begin the conversation as best she 
could. The old woman looked at her sharply 
with piercing dark eyes, which must have been 
beautiful in their youth. The intense gaze 
embarrassed Joyce, and to break the silence 
she hurriedly stammered out the first thing 
that came to her mind. 


134 the gate of the giant scissors. 


Are you ill, to-day V 

The simple question had a startling effect on 
the old woman. She raised herself on one 



speak the language that my husband taught 
me to love, and the tongue my little children 


OL0 '‘NUMBER THIRTY - ONE/' I 35 

lisped ; but they are all dead now, and I’ve 
come bacR ro my ficitive land to find no home 
but the one that charity provides.” 

Her words ended in a wail, and she sank 
back on her pillow. ‘‘And this is my birth- 
day,” she went on. “ Seventy-three years 
old, and a pauper, cast out to the care of 
strangers.” 

The tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks, and 
her mouth trembled pitifully. Joyce was dis- 
tressed ; she looked around for Sister Denisa, 
but saw that they were alone, they two, in the 
great bare dormitory, with its long rows of 
narrow white cots. The child felt utterly help- 
less to speak a word of comfort, although she 
was so sorry for the poor lonely old creature 
that she began to cry softly to herself. She 
leaned over, and taking one of the thin, blue- 
veined hands in hers, patted it tenderly with 
her plump little fingers. 

“ I ought not to complain,” said the tremb- 
ling voice, still broken by sobs. “ We have food 
and shelter and sunshine and the sisters. Ah, 
that little Sister Denisa, she is indeed a smile 
of God to us all. But at seventy-three one 
wants more than a cup of coffee and a clean 


136 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

handkerchief. One wants something besides a 
bed and being just Number Thirty-one among 
two hundred other paupers.” 

“ I am so sorry ! ” exclaimed Joyce, with such 
heartfelt earnestness that the sobbing woman 
felt the warmth of her sympathy, and looked 
up with a brighter face. 

‘‘Talk to me,” she exclaimed. “It has been 
so long since I have heard your language.” 

While she obeyed Joyce kept thinking of her 
Grandmother Ware. She could see her out, 
doors among her flowers, the dahlias and touch- 
me-nots, the four-o’clocks and the cinnamon 
roses, taking such pride and pleasure in her 
sweet posy beds. She could see her beside the 
little table on the shady porch, making tea for 
some old neighbor who had dropped in to 
spend the afternoon with her. Or she was 
asleep in her armchair by the western window, 
her Bible in her lap and a smile on her 
sweet, kindly face. How dreary and empty the 
days must seem to poor old Number Thirty- 
one, with none of these things to brighten 
them. 

Joyce could scarcely keep the tears out of 
her voice while she talked. Later, when Sister 


OLD “NUMBER THIRTY - ONE/' I 37 

Denisa came back, Joyce was softly humming a 
lullaby, and Number Thirty-one, with a smile 
on her pitiful old face, was sleeping like a little 
child. 

“ You will come again, dear mademoiselle,” 
said Sister Denisa, as she kissed the child 
good-by at the door. “You have brought a 
blessing, may you carry one away as well ! ” 

Joyce looked inquiringly at madame. “You 
may come whenever you like,” was the answer. 
“ Marie can bring you whenever you are in 
town.” 

Joyce was so quiet on the way home that 
madame feared the day had been too fatiguing 
for her. “ No,” said Joyce, soberly. “ I was only 
thinking about poor old Number Thirty-one. 
I am sorrier for her than I was for Jules. I 
used to think that there was nothing so sad 
as being a little child without any father or 
mother, and having to live in an asylum. I’ve 
often thought how lovely it would be to go 
around and find a beautiful home for every 
little orphan in the world. But I believe, now, 
that it is worse to be old that way. Old peo- 
ple can’t play together, and they haven’t any- 
thing to look forward to, and it makes them so 


I3« THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

miserable to remember all the things they have 
had and lost. If I had enough money to adopt 
anybody, I would adopt some poor old grand- 
father or grandmother and make’m happv all 
the rest of their days.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. 

That night, when Marie came in to light f he 
lamps and brush Joyce’s hair before dinner, .* he 
had some news to tell. 

Brossard has been sent away from the Ci- 
seaux place,” she said. A new man is cc m- 
ing to-morrow, and my friend, Clotilde Robai d, 
has already taken the position of housekeeper. 
She says that a very different life has begun 
for little Monsieur Jules, and that in his fine 
new clothes one could never recognize the 
little goatherd. He looks now like what he 
is, a gentleman’s son. He has the room next 
to monsieur’s, all freshly furnished, and after 
New Year a tutor is coming from Paris. 

**But they say that it is pitiful to see how 
greatly the child fears his uncle. He does not 
understand the old man’s cold, forbidding man- 
ner, and it provokes monsieur to have the 
139 


140 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

little one tremble and grow pale whenever he 
speaks. Clotilda says that Madame Gr^vill^ 
told monsieur that the boy needed games an(? 
young companions to make him more like 
other children, and he promised her that Mon 
sieur Jules should come over here to-morrovi 
afternoon to play with you.” 

Oh, good!” cried Joyce. “We’ll have 
another barbecue if the day is fine. I am so 
glad that we do not have to be bothered am' 
more by those tiresome old goats.*'' 

By the time the next afternoon arrived, how- 
ever, Joyce was far too much interested in some- 
thing else to think of a barbecue. Cousin Kate 
had come back from Paris with a trunk full of 
pretty things, and a plan for the coming Christ- 
mas. At first she thought of taking only ma- 
dame into her confidence, and preparing a small 
Christmas tree for Joyce ; but afterwards she 
concluded that it would give the child more 
pleasure if she were allowed to take part in the 
preparations. It would keep her from being 
homesick by giving her something else to think 
about. 

Then madame proposed inviting a few of 
the little peasant children who had never seen 


CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. I^I 


a Christmas tree. The more they discussed 
the plan the larger it grew, like a rolling 
snowball. By lunch-time madame had a list 
of thirty children, who were to 
be bidden to the Nod fete, and 
Cousin Kate had decided to order 
a tree tall enough to touch the 
ceiling. 

When Jules came over, awkward 
and shy with the consciousness of 
his new clothes, he found Joyce 
sitting in the midst of yards of 
gaily colored tarletan. It was 
heaped up around her in bright 
masses of purple and orange 
and scarlet and green, and she 
was making it into candy-bags 
for the tree. 

In a few minutes Jules had 
forgotten all about himself, and 
was as busy as she, pinning the 
little stocking-shaped patterns 
in place, and carefully cutting cut those fasci- 
nating bags. 

‘‘You would be lots of help,’' said Joyce, “if 
you could come over every day, for there’s all 



142 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

the ornaments to unpack, and the corn to shell, 
and pop, and string. It will take most of my 
time to dress the dolls, and there’s such ^ 
short time to do everything in.” 

‘‘You never saw any pop-corn, did you, 
Jules.?” asked Cousin Kate. “When I was 
here last time, I couldn’t find it anywhere 
in France; but the other day a friend told 
me of a grocer in Paris, who imports it foi 
his American customers every winter. So 
I went there. Joyce, suppose you get the 
popper and show Jules what the corn is 
like.” 

Madame was interested also, as she watched 
the little brown kernels shaken back and forth 
in their wire cage over the glowing coals. 
When they began popping open, the little 
seeds suddenly turning into big white blossoms, 
she sent Rosalie running to bring monsieur to 
see the novel sight. 

“We can eat and work at the same time,” 
said Joyce, as she filled a dish with the corn, 
and called Jules back to the table, where he 
had been cutting tarletan. “ There’s no time to 
lose. See what a funny grain this is ! ” she 
cried, picking up one that lay on the top of the 


CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. I43 

dish. ** It looks^ like Therese, the fishwoman, 
in her white cap.” 

‘‘And here is -a goat’s head,” said Jules, 
picking up another grain. “ And this one 
looks like a fat pigeon.” 

He had forgotten his shyness entirely now, 
and was laughing and talking as easily as Jack 
could have done. 

“Jules,” said Joyce, suddenly, looking around 
to see that the older people were too busy with 
their own conversation to notice hers. “Jules, 
why don’t you talk to your Uncle Martin the 
way you do to me ? He would like you lots 
better if you would. Robard says that you get 
pale and frightened every time he speaks to 
you, and it provokes him for you to be so 
timid.” 

Jules dropped his eyes. “I cannot help it,” 
he exclaimed. “ He looks so grim and cross 
that my voice just won’t come out of my throat 
when I open my mouth.” 

Joyce studied him critically, with her head 
tipped a little to one side. “Well, I must 
say,” she exclaimed, finally, “that, for a boy 
born in America, you have the least dare about 
you of anybody I ever saw. Your Uncle Mar- 


144 the gate of the giant scissors. 

tin isn’t any grimmer or Grosser than a man I 
know at home. There’s Judge Ward, so big 
and solemn and dignified that everybody is 
half way afraid of him. Even grown people 
have always been particular about what they 
said to him. 

“ Last summer his little nephew, Charley 
Ward, came to visit him. Charley’s just a 
little thing, still in dresses, and he calls his 
uncle. Bill. Think of anybody daring to call 
Judge Ward, Bill! No matter what the judge 
was doing, or how glum he looked, if Charley 
took a notion, he would go up and stand in 
front of him, and say, * Laugh, Bill, laugh ! ’ If 
the judge happened to be reading, he’d have to 
put down his book, and no matter whether he 
felt funny or not, or whether there was any- 
thing to laugh at or not, he would have to 
throw his head back and just roar. Charley 
liked to see his fat sides shake, and his white 
teeth shine. I’ve heard people say that the 
judge likes Charley better than anybody else 
in the world, because he’s the only person who 
acts as if he wasn’t afraid of him.” 

Jules sat still a minute, considering, and then 
asked, anxiously, “ But what do you suppose 


/ 


CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. I45 

would happen if I should say ‘Laugh, Martin, 
laugh,’ to my uncle ? ” 

Joyce shrugged her shoulders impatiently. 
“Mercy, Jules, I did not mean that you should 
act like a three-year-old baby. I meant that 
you ought to talk up to your uncle some. Now 
this is the way you are.” She picked up a 
kernel of the unpopped corn, and held it out 
for him to see. “You shut yourself up in a 
little hard ball like this, so that your uncle 
can’t get acquainted with you. How can he 
know what is inside of your head if you always 
shut up like a clam whenever he comes near 
you ? This is the way that you ought to be.” 
She shot one of the great white grains towards 
him with a deft flip of her thumb and finger. 
“ Be free and open with him.” 

Jules put the tender morsel in his mouth 
and ate it thoughtfully. “ I’ll try,” he prom- 
ised, “ if you really think that it would please 
him, and I can think of anything to say. You 
don’t know how I dread going to the table 
when everything is always so still that we can 
hear the clock tick.” 

“Well, you take my advice,” said Joyce. 
“Talk about anything. Tell him about our 


140 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Thanksgiving feast and the Christmas tree, and 
ask him if you can’t come over every day to 
help. I wouldn’t let anybody think that I was 
a coward.” 

Joyce’s little lecture had a good effect, and 
monsieur saw the wisdom of Madame Gr^ville’s 
advice when Jules came to the table that night. 
He had brought a handful of the wonderful 
corn to show his uncle, and in the conversation 
that it brought about he unconsciously showed 
something else, — something of ‘ his sensitive 
inner self that aroused his uncle’s interest. 

Every afternoon of the week that followed 
found Jules hurrying over to Madame Greville’s 
to help with the Christmas preparations. He 
strung yards of corn, and measured out the 
nuts and candy for each of the gay bags. 
Twice he went in the carriage to Tours with 
Cousin Kate and Joyce, to help buy presents 
for the thirty little guests. He was jostled by 
the holiday shoppers in crowded aisles. He 
stood enraptured in front of wonderful show 
windows, and he had the joy of choosing fifteen 
things from piles of bright tin trumpets, drums, 
jumping-jacks, and picture-books. Joyce chose 
the presents for the girls. 


CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. 1 4 / 

The tree was bought and set up in a large 
unused room back of the library, and as soon 
as each article was in readiness it was carried 
in and laid on a table beside it. Jules used to 
steal in sometimes and look at the tapers, the 
beautiful colored glass balls, the gilt stars and 
glittering tinsel, and wonder how the stately 
cedar would look in all that array of loveliness. 
Everything belonging to it seemed sacred, 
even the unused scraps of bright tarletan and 
the bits of broken candles. He would not let 
Marie sweep them up to be burned, but gath- 
ered them carefully into a box and carried 
them home. There were several things that 
he had rescued from her broom, — one of those 
beautiful red balls, cracked on one side it is 
true, but gleaming like a mammoth red cherry 
on the other. There were scraps of tinsel and 
odds and ends of ornaments that had been 
broken or damaged by careless handling. 
These he hid away in a chest in his room, as 
carefully as a miser would have hoarded a bag 
of gold. 

Clotilde Robard, the housekeeper, wondered 
why she found his candle burned so low several 
mornings. She would have wondered still more 


148 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

if she had gone into his room a while before 
daybreak. He had awakened early, and, sitting 
up in bed with the quilts wrapped around him, 
spread the scraps of tarletan on his knees. 
He was piecing together with his awkward 
little fingers enough to make several tiny 
bags. 

Henri missed his spade one morning, and 
hunted for it until he was out of patience. It 
was nowhere to be seen. Half ■ an hour later, 
coming back to the house, he found it hanging 
in its usual place, where he had looked for it a 
dozen times at least. Jules had taken it down to 
the woods to dig up a little cedar-tree, so little 
that it was not over a foot high when it was 
planted in a box. 

Clotilde had to be taken into the secret, for 
he could not hide it from her. ‘‘ It is for my 
Uncle Martin,” he said, timidly. ‘‘Do you 
think he will like it ” 

The motherly housekeeper looked at the 
poor little tree, decked out in its scraps of 
cast-off finery, and felt a sob rising in her 
throat, but she held up her hands with many 
admiring exclamations that made Jules glow 
with pride. 



“ SITTING UP IN BED WITH THE QUILTS WRAPPED 
AROUND HIM.” 




CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. I5I 

•*I have no beautiful white strings of pop- 
corn to hang over it like wreaths of snow,” he 
said, ‘‘so I am going down the lane for some 
mistletoe that grows in one of the highest 
trees. The berries are like lovely white wax 
beads.” 

“You are a good little lad,” said the house- 
keeper, kindly, as she gave his head an affec- 
tionate pat. “ I shall have to make something 
to hang on that tree myself; some gingerbread 
figures, maybe. I used to know how to cut 
out men and horses and pigs, — nearly all 
the animals. I must try it again some day 
soon.” 

A happy smile spread all over Jules’s face as 
he thanked her. The words, “You are a good 
little lad,” sent a warm glow of pleasure through 
him, and rang like music in his ears all the way 
down the lane. How bright the world looked 
this frosty December morning ! What cheeri- 
ness there was in the ring of Henri’s axe as he 
chopped away at the stove-wood ! What friend- 
liness in the baker’s whistle, as he rattled by in 
his big cart! Jules found himself whistling, too, 
for sheer gladness, and all because of no more 
kindness than might have been thrown to a 


152 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

dog; a pat on the head and the words, *‘You 
are a good little lad.” 

Sometime after, it may have been two hours 
or more, Madame Greville was startled by a 
wild, continuous ringing of the bell at her front 
gate. Somebody was sending peal after peal 
echoing through the garden, with quick, impa- 
tient jerks of the bell-wire. She hurried out 
herself to answer the summons. 

Berthe had already shot back the bolt and 
showed Clotilde leaning against the stone 
post, holding her fat sides and completely ex- 
hausted by her short run from the Ciseaux 
house. 

“Will madame send Gabriel for the doctor.?” 
she cried, gasping for breath at every word. 
“The little Monsieur Jules has fallen from a 
tree and is badly hurt. We do not know how 
much, for he is still unconscious and his uncle 
is away from home. Henri found him lying 
under a tree with a big bunch of mistletoe in 
his arms. He carried him up-stairs while I ran 
over to ask you to send Gabriel quickly on a 
horse for the doctor.” 

“Gabriel shall go immediately,” said Madame 


CHRISTMAS PLANS AND AN ACCIDENT. 1 53 

Gr^ville, “and I shall follow you as soon as I 
have given the order.” 

Clotilde started back in as great haste as her 
weight would allow, puffing and blowing and 
wiping her eyes on her apron at every step. 
Madame overtook her before she had gone 
many rods. Always calm and self-possessed 
in every emergency, madame took command 
now ; sent the weeping Clotilde to look for 
old linen, Henri to the village for Monsieur 
Ciseaux, and then turned her attention to Jules. 

“To think,” said Clotilde, coming into the 
room, “ that the last thing the poor little lamb 
did was to show me his Christmas tree that he 
was making ready for his uncle ! ” She pointed 
to the corner where it stood, decked by awk- 
ward boyish hands in its pitiful collection of 
scraps. 

“ Poor little fellow ! ” said madame, with 
tears in her own eyes. “ He has done the 
best he could. Put it in the closet, Clotilde. 
Jules would not want it to be seen before 
Christmas.” 

Madame stayed until the doctor had made 
his visit ; then the report that she carried home 
was that Jules had regained consciousness, and 


154 the gate of the giant scissors. 

that, as far as could be discovered, his only 
injury was a broken leg. 

Joyce took refuge in the pear-tree. It was 
not alone because Jules was hurt that she 
wanted to cry, but because they must have 
the Nod fde without him. She knew how 
bitterly he would be disappointed. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 

‘‘Only two more nights till Christmas eve, 
two more nights, two more nights,” sang Joyce 
to Jules in a sort of chant. She was sitting 
beside his bed with a box in her lap, full of 
little dolls, which she was dressing. Every day 
since his accident she had been allowed to make 
him two visits, — one in the morning, and one 
in the afternoon. They helped wonderfully in 
shortening the long, tedious days for Jules. 
True, Madame Grdville came often with 
broths and jellies. Cousin Kate made flying 
visits to leave rare hothouse grapes and big 
bunches of violets ; Clotilde hung over him 
with motherly tenderness, and his uncle looked 
into the room many times a day to see that he 
wanted nothing. 

Jules’s famished little heart drank in all this 
unusual kindness and attention as greedily as 

155 


1^6 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

the parched earth drinks in the rain. Still, he 
would have passed many a long, restless hour, 
had it not been for Joyce’s visits. 

She brought over a photograph of the house 
at home, with the family seated in a group on 
the front porch. Jules held it close while she 
introduced each one of them. By the time he 
had heard all about Holland’s getting lost the 
day the circus came to town, and Jack’s taking 
the prize in a skating contest, and Mary’s set- 
ting her apron on fire, and the baby’s sweet 
little ways when he said his prayers, or played 
peek-a-boo, he felt very well acquainted with 
the entire Ware family. Afterward, when 
Joyce had gone, he felt his loneliness more 
than ever. He lay there, trying to imagine how 
it must feel to have a mother and sisters and 
brothers all as fond of each other as Joyce’s 
were, and to live in the midst of such good 
times as always went on in the little brown 
house. 

Monsieur Ciseaux, sitting by his fire with the 
door open between the two rooms, listened to 
Joyce’s merry chatter with almost as much 
interest as Jules. He would have been ashamed 
to admit how eagerly he listened for her step on 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 1 5/ 

the stairs every day, or what longings wakened 
in his lonely old heart, when he sat by his love- 
less fireside after she had gone home, and there 
was no more sound of children’s voices in the 
next room. 

There had been good times in the old 
Ciseaux house also, once, and two little 
brothers and a sister had played in that very 
room ; but they had grown up long ago, and 
the ogre of selfishness and misunderstanding 
had stolen in and killed all their happiness. 
Ah, well, there was much that the world 
would never know about that misunderstand- 
ing. There was much to forgive and forget 
on both sides. 

Joyce had a different story for each visit. 
To-day she had just finished telling Jules the 
fairy tale of which he never tired, the tale of 
the giant scissors. 

** I never look at those scissors over the 
gate without thinking of you,” said Jules, 
‘‘and the night when you played that I was 
the Prince, and you came to rescue me.” 

“ I wish I could play scissors again, and 
rescue somebody else that I know,” answered 
Joyce. I’d take poor old Number Thirty-one 


158 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

away from the home of the Little Sisters of 
the Poor.” 

What’s Number Thirty-one.? ” asked Jules. 
‘‘You never told me about that.” 

“ Didn’t I .? ” asked Joyce, in surprise. “ She 
is a lonely old woman that the sisters take 
care of. I have talked about her so often, 
and written home so much, that I thought I 
had told everybody. I can hardly keep from 
crying whenever I think of her. Marie and I 
stop every day we go into town and take her 
flowers. I have been there four times since 
my first visit with madame. Sometimes she 
tells me things that happened when she was 
a little girl here in France, but she talks to me 
oftenest in English about the time when she 
lived in America. I can hardly imagine that 
she was ever as young as I am, and that she 
romped with her brothers as I did with Jack.” 

“Tell some of the things that she told 
you,” urged Jules ; so Joyce began repeating 
all that she knew about Number Thirty-one. 

It was a pathetic little tale that brought 
tears to Jules’s eyes, and a dull pain to the 
heart of the old man who listened in the 
next room. “I wish I were rich,” exclaimed 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 


159 


Joyce, impulsively, as she finished. I wish I 
had a beautiful big home, and I would adopt 
her for my grandmother. She should have 
a great lovely room, where the sun shines in 
all day long, and it should be furnished in rose- 
color like the one that she had when she was a 
girl. I’d dress her in gray satin and soft white 
lace. She has the prettiest silvery hair, and 
beautiful dark eyes. She would make a lovely 
grandmother. And I would have a maid to 
wait on her, and there’d be mignonette always 
growing in boxes on the window-sill. Every 
time I came back from town, I’d bring her a 
present just for a nice little surprise ; and I’d 
read to her, and sing to her, and make her feel 
that she belonged to somebody, so that she’d be 
happy all the rest of her days. 

“Yesterday while I was there she was holding 
a little cut glass vinaigrette. It had a big D 
engraved on the silver top. She said that it 
was the only thing that she had left except her 
wedding ring, and that it was to be Sister 
Denisa’s when she was gone. The D stands 
for both their names. Hers is Desird. She 
said the vinaigrette was too precious to part 
with as long as she lives, because her oldest 


100 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

brother gave it to her on her twelfth birthday, 
when she was exactly as old as I am. Isn’t 
Desire a pretty name } ” 

Mademoiselle,” called Monsieur Ciseaux 
from the next room, “mademoiselle, will you 
come — will you tell me — what name was that ? 
Desird, did you say } ” 

There was something so strange in the way 
he called that name D6sir4 almost like a cry, 
that Joyce sprang up, startled, and ran into the 
next room. She had never ventured inside 
before. 

“Tell me again what you were telling Jules,” 
said the old man. “ Seventy-three years, did 
you say ? And how long has she been back in 
France ” 

Joyce began to answer his rapid questions, 
but stopped with a frightened cry as her glance 
fell on a large portrait hanging over the mantel. 
“ There she is ! ” she cried, excitedly dancing 
up and down as she pointed to the portrait. 
“There she is! That’s Number Thirty-one, 
her very own self.” 

You are mistaken I ” cried the old man, 
attempting to rise from his chair, but trembling 
so that he could scarcely pull himself up on his 



> » 




‘“that’s number thirty-one. 



A GREAT DISCOVERY. 1 63 

feet ‘‘That is a picture of my mother, and 
Desire is dead ; long dead.” 

“But it is exactly like Nurriber Thirty-one, — 
I mean Madame Desire,” persisted Joyce. 

Monsieur looked at her wildly from under 
his shaggy brows, and then, turning away, 
began to pace up and down the room. “ I had 
a sister once,” he began. “ She would have 
been seventy-three this month, and her name 
was Ddsire.” 

Joyce stood motionless in the middle of the 
room, wondering what was coming next. Sud- 
denly turning with a violence that made her 
start, he cried, “No, I never can forgive ! She 
has been dead to me nearly a lifetime. Why 
did you tell me this, child ? Out of my sight ! 
What is it to me if she is homeless and alone ? 
Go ! Go ! ” 

He waved his hands so wildly in motioning 
her away, that Joyce ran out of the room and 
banged the door behind her. 

“What do you suppose is the matter with 
him.?” asked Jules, in a frightened whisper, as 
they listened to his heavy tread, back and forth^ 
back and forth, in the next room. 

Joyce shook her head. “I don’t know foi 


1(54 the gate of the giant scissors. 

sure,” she answered, hesitatingly, but I be. 
lieve that he is going crazy.” 

Jules’s eyes opened so wide that Joyce wished 
she had not frightened him. “ Oh, you know 
that I didn’t mean it,” she said, reassuringly. 
The heavy tread stopped, and the children 
looked at each other. 

What can he be doing now ? ” Jules asked, 
anxiously. 

Joyce tiptoed across the room, and peeped 
through the keyhole. He is sitting down 
now, by the table, with his head on his arms. 
He looks as if he might be crying about some- 
thing.” 

“I wish he didn’t feel bad,” said Jules, with 
a swift rush of pity. He has been so good 
to me ever since he sent Brossard away. Some- 
times I think that he must feel as much alone 
in the world as I do, because all his family are 
dead, too. Before I broke my leg I was making 
him a little Christmas tree, so that he need not 
feel left out when we had the big one. I was 
getting mistletoe for it when I fell. I can’t 
finish it now, but there’s five pieces of candle on 
it, and I’ll get Clotilde to light them while the 
f^te is going on, so that I’ll not miss the big 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 


165 


tree so much. Oh, nobody knows how much I 
want to go to that fete ! Sometimes it seems 
more than I can bear to have to stay away.” 

Where is your tree ? ” asked Joyce. May 
I see it 

Jules pointed to the closet. “It’s in there, 
he said, proudly. “ I trimmed it with pieces 
that Marie swept up to burn. Oh, shut the 
door ! Quick ! ” he cried, excitedly, as a step 
was heard in the hall. “ I don’t want anybody 
to see it before the time comes.” 

The step was Henri’s. He had come to say 
that Marie was waiting to take mademoiselle 
home. Joyce was glad of the interruption. 
She could not say anything in praise of the 
poor little tree, and she knew that Jules ex- 
pected her to. She felt relieved that Henri’s 
presence made it impossible for her to express 
any opinion. 

She bade Jules good-by gaily, but went home 
with such a sober little face that Cousin Kate 
began to question her about her visit. Madame, 
sitting by the window with her embroidery, 
frame, heard the account also. Several times 
she looked significantly across at Cousin Kate, 
over the child’s head. 


1 66 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 


Joyce/’ said Cousin Kate, ‘'you have had so 
little outdoor exercise since Jules’s accident that 
it would be a good thing for you to run around 
in the garden awhile before dark.” 

Joyce had not seen madame’s 
glances, but she felt vaguely that 
Cousin Kate was making an ex- 
cuse to get rid of her. She was 
disappointed, for she thought that 
her account of monsieur’s queer 
actions and Jules’s little tree would 
have made a greater impression 
on her audience. She went out 
obediently, walking up and down 
the paths with her hands in her 
jacket pockets, and 
her red tam-o’shanter 
pulled down over her 
eyes. The big white 
cat followed her, ran 
on ahead, and then 
stopped, arching its 
back as if waiting for her to stroke it. Taking 
no notice of it, Joyce turned aside to the 
pear-tree and climbed up among the highest 
branches. 



A GREAT DISCOVERY. IO7 

The cat rubbed against the tree, mewing and 
purring by turns, then sprang up in the tree 
after her. She took the warm, furry creature 
in her arms and began talking to it. 

“Oh, Solomon,” she said, “what do you 
suppose is the matter over there.? My poor 
old lady must be monsieur’s sister, or she 
couldn’t have looked exactly like that picture, 
and he would not have acted so queerly. What 
do you suppose it is that he can never forgive .? 
Why did he call me in there and then drive me 
out in such a crazy way, and tramp around the 
room, and put his head down on his arms as if 
he were crying ” 

Solomon purred louder and closed his eyes. 

“ Oh, you dear, comfortable old thing,” 
exclaimed Joyce, giving the cat a shake. 
“Wake up and take some interest in what I 
am saying. I wish you were as smart as Puss 
in Boots ; then maybe you could find out what 
is the matter. How I wish fairy tales could be 
true ! I’d say ‘ Giant scissors, right the wrong 
and open the gate that’s been shut so long.’ 
There ! Did you hear that, Solomon Grdville ? 
I said a rhyme right off without waiting to 
make it up. Then the scissors would leap 


1 68 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

down and cut the misunderstanding or trouble 
or whatever it is, and the gate would fly open, 
and there the brother and sister would meet 
each other. All the unhappy years would be 
forgotten, and they’d take each other by the 
hand, just as they did when they were little 
children, Martin and Desir6, and go into the 
old home together, — on Christmas Day, in 
the morning.” 

Joyce was half singing her words now, as 
she rocked the cat back and forth in her arms. 
“And then the scissors would bring Jules a 
magnificent big tree, and he’d never be afraid 
of his uncle any more. Oh, they’d all have 
such a happy time on Christmas Day, in the 
morning ! ” 

Joyce had fully expected to be homesick 
all during the holidays ; but now she was so 
absorbed in other people’s troubles, and her 
day-dreams to make everybody happy, that 
she forgot all about herself. She fairly bub- 
bled over with the peace and good-will of the 
approaching Christmas-tide, and rocked the cat 
back and forth in the pear-tree to the tune of a 
happy old-time carol. 

A star or two twinkled out through the 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 1 69 

gloaming, and, looking up beyond them through 
the infinite stretches of space, Joyce thought 
of a verse that she and Jack had once learned 
together, one rainy Sunday at her Grandmother 
Ware’s, sitting on a little stool at the old lady’s 
feet : 

Behold thou hast made the heaven and the 
earth by thy great power and outstretched 
arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee!"* 
Her heart gave a bound at the thought. Why 
should she be sitting there longing for fairy 
tales to be true, when the great Hand that had 
set the stars to swinging could bring anything 
to pass ; could even open that long-closed gate 
and bring the brother and sister together again, 
and send happiness to little Jules } 

Joyce lifted her eyes again and looked up, 
out past the stars. ‘‘ Oh, if you please, God,” 
she whispered, ‘‘for the little Christ-child’s 
sake.” ■ 

When Joyce went back to the house. Cousin 
Kate sat in the drawing-room alone. Madame 
had gone over to see Jules, and did not return 
until long after dark. Berthe had been in 
three times to ask monsieur if dinner should 
be served, before they heard her ring at the 


I/O THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

gate. When she finally came, there was such 
an air of mystery about her that Joyce was 
puzzled. All that next morning, too, the day 
before Christmas, it seemed to Joyce as if 
something unusual were afloat. Everybody in 
the house was acting strangely. 

Madame and Cousin Kate did not come 
home to lunch. She had been told that she 
must not go to see Jules until afternoon, and 
the doors of the room where the Christmas 
tree was kept had all been carefully locked. 
She thought that the morning never would 
pass. It 'vvas nearly three o’clock when she 
started over to see Jules. To her great sur- 
prise, as she ran lightly up the stairs to his 
room, she saw her Cousin Kate hurrying across 
the upper hall, with a pile of rose-colored silk 
curtains in her arms. 

Jules tried to raise himself up in bed as 
Joyce entered, forgetting all about his broken 
leg in his eagerness to tell the news. <‘Oh, 
what do you think ! ” he cried. “ They said 
that I might be the one to tell you. She is 
Uncle Martin’s sister, the old woman you told 
about yesterday, and he is going to bring her 
home to-morrow.” 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 


I7I 

Joyce sank into a chair with a little gasp at 
the suddenness of his news. She had not ex- 
pected this beautiful ending of her day-dreams 
to be brought about so soon, although she had 
hoped that it would be sometime. 

** How did it all happen ? ” she cried, with a 
beaming face. Tell me about it ! Quick ! ” 

“Yesterday afternoon madame came over 
soon after you left. She gave me my wine 
jelly, and then went into Uncle Martin’s room, 
and talked and talked for the longest time. 
After she had gone he did not eat any dinner, 
and I think that he must have sat up all night, 
for I heard him walking around every time that 
I waked up. Very early this morning, madame 
came back again, and M. Greville was with her. 
They drove with Uncle Martin to the Little 
Sisters of the Poor. I don’t know what hap- 
pened out there, only that Aunt D6sir^ is to 
be brought home to-morrow. 

“Your Cousin Kate was with them when 
they came back, and they had brought all sorts 
of things with them from Tours. She is in 
there now, making Aunt D^sird’s room look 
like it did when she was a, girl.” 

“ Oh, isn’t it lovely ! ” exclaimed Joyce. “ It 


1/2 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

is better than all the fairy tales that I have ever 
read or heard, — almost too good to be true ! ** 
Just then Cousin Kate called her, and she ran 
across the hall. Standing in the doorway, she 
looked all around the freshly furnished room, 
that glowed with the same soft, warm pink 
that colors the heart of a shell. 

How beautiful ! ” cried Joyce, glancing from 
the rose on the dressing-table to the soft cur- 
tains of the windows, which all opened towards 
the morning sun. What a change it will be 
from that big bare dormitory with its rows of 
narrow little cots.” She tiptoed around the 
room, admiring everything, and smiling over 
the happiness in store for poor old Number 
Thirty-one, when she should find herself in 
the midst of such loveliness. 

Joyce’s cup of pleasure was so full, that it 
brimmed over when they turned to leave the 
room. Cousin Kate slipped an arm around 
her, and kissed her softly on the forehead. 

** You dear little fairy tale lover,” she said. 

Do you know that it is because of you that 
this desert has blossomed ? If you had never 
made all those visits to the Little Sisters of the 
Poor, and had never won old Madame Ddsird’s 


A GREAT DISCOVERY. 


173 


love and confidence by your sympathy, if you 
had never told Jules the story of the giant 
scissors, and wished so loud that you could fly 
to her rescue, old monsieur would never have 
known that his sister is living. Even then, I 
doubt if he would have taken this step, and 
brought her back home to live, if your stories 
of your mother and the children had not 
brought his own childhood back to him. He 
said that he used to sit there hour after hour, 
and hear you talk of your life at home, until 
some of its warmth and love crept into his own 
frozen old heart, and thawed out its selfishness 
and pride.” 

Joyce lifted her radiant face, and looked to- 
wards the half opened window, as she caught 
the sound of chimes. Across the Loire came 
the deep-toned voice of a cathedral bell, ringing 
for vespers. 

‘‘ Listen ! ” she cried. ** Peace on earth, — 
good-will — oh. Cousin Kate! It really does 
seem to say it ! My Christmas has begun the 
day before.” 


I 


CHAPTER X. 

CHRISTMAS. 

Long before the Christmas dawn was bright 
enough to bring the blue parrots into plain 
view on the walls of Joyce’s room, she had 
climbed out of bed to look for her ‘‘ messages 
from NoH.” The night before, following the 
old French custom, she had set her little 
slippers just outside the threshold. Now, can- 
dle in hand, she softly slipped to the door and 
peeped out into the hall. Her first eager glance 
showed that they were full. 

Climbing back into her warm bed, she put 
the candle on the table beside it, and began 
emptying the slippers. They were filled with 
bonbons and all sorts of little trifles, such as 
she and Jules had admired in the gay shop 
windows. Op the top of one madame had laid 
a slender silver pencil, and monsieur a pretty 
purse. In the other was a pair of little wooden 
shoes, fashioned like the ones that Jules had 
174 


CHRISTMAS. 


m 


worn when she first knew him. They were 
only half as long as her thumb, and wrapped in 
a paper on which was written that Jules him- 
self had whittled them out for her, with Henri’s 
help and instructions. 

“What little darlings!” exclaimed Joyce. 
“I hope he will think as much of the scrap- 
book that I made for him as I do of these. I 
know that he will be pleased with the big micro- 
scope that Cousin Kate bought for him.” 

She spread all the things out on the table, 
and gave the slippers a final, shake. A red 
morocco case, no larger than half a dollar, fell 
out of the toe of one of them. Inside the case 
was a tiny buttonhole watch, with its wee 
hands pointing to six o’clock. It was the 
smallest watch that Joyce had ever seen. 
Cousin Kate’s gift. Joyce could hardly keep 
back a little squeal of delight. She wanted to 
wake up everybody on the place and show it. 
Then she wished that she could be back in the 
brown house, showing it to her mother and the 
children. For a moment, as she thought of 
them, sharing the pleasure of their Christmas 
stockings without her, a great wave of home- 
sickness swept over her, and she lay back on 


I/O THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

the pillow with that miserable, far-away feeling 
chat, of all things, makes one most desolate. 

Then she heard the rapid ‘‘tick, tick, tick, 
tick,” of the little watch, and was comforted. 
She had not realized before that time could go 
so fast. Now thirty seconds were gone ; then 
sixty. At this rate it could not be such a very 
long time before they would be packing their 
trunks to start home ; so Joyce concluded not 
to make herself unhappy by longing for the 
family, but to get as much pleasure as possible 
out of this strange Christmas abroad. 

That little watch seemed to make the morn- 
ing fly. She looked at it at least twenty times 
an hour. She had shown it to every one in 
the house, and was wishing that she could take 
it over to Jules for him to see, when Monsieur 
Ciseaux’s carriage stopped at the gate. He 
was on his way to the Little Sisters of the 
Poor, and had come to ask Joyce to drive with 
him to bring his sister home. 

He handed her into the carriage as if she 
had been a duchess, and then seemed to forget 
that she was beside him ; for nothing was said 
all the way. As the horses spun along the 
'<oad in the keen morning air, the old man was 


CHRISTMAS. 


177 


busy with his memories, his head dropped for- 
ward on his breast. The child watched him, 
entering into this little drama as sympatheti- 
cally as if she herself were the forlorn old 
woman, and this silent, white-haired man at 
her side were Jack. 

Sister Denisa came running out to meet 
them, her face shining and her eyes glisten- 
ing with tears. “ It is for joy that I weep,” 
she exclaimed, “ that poor madame should have 
come to her own again. See the change that 
has already been made in her by the blessed 
news.” 

Joyce looked down the corridor as monsieur 
hurried forward to meet the old lady coming 
towards them, and to offer his arm. Hope had 
straightened the bowed figure; joy had put 
lustre into her dark eyes and strength into her 
weak frame. She walked with such proud 
stateliness that the other inmates of the home 
looked up at her in surprise as she passed. 
She was no more like the tearful, broken- 
spirited woman who had lived among them so 
long, than her threadbare dress was like the 
elegant mantle which monsieur had brought to 
fold around her. 


178 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

Joyce had brought a handful of roses to 
Sister Denisa, who caught them up with a cry 
of pleasure, and held them against her face as 
if they carried with them some sweetness of 
another world. 

Madame came up then, and, taking the nun in 
her arms, tried to thank her for all that she had 
done, but could find no words for a gratitude so 
deep, and turned away, sobbing. 

They said good-by to Sister Denisa, — brave 
Little Sister of the Poor, whose only joy was 
the pleasure of unselfish service ; who had no 
time to even stand at the gate and be a glad 
witness of other people’s Christmas happiness, 
but must hurry back to her morning task of 
dealing out coffee and clean handkerchiefs to 
two hundred old paupers. No, there were only 
a hundred and ninety-nine now. Down the 
streets, across the Loire, into the old village 
and out again, along the wide Paris road, one 
of them was going home. 

The carriage turned and went for a little 
space between brown fields and closely clipped 
hedgerows, and then madame saw the windows 
of her old home flashing back the morning 
sunlight over the high stone wall. Again the 


CHRISTMAS. 


179 


carriage turned, into the lane this time, and 
now the sunlight was caught up by the scissors 
over the gate, and thrown dazzlingly down into 
their faces. 

Monsieur smiled as he looked at Joyce, a 
tender, gentle smile that one would have sup- 
posed never could have been seen on those 
harsh lips. She was almost standing up in 
the carriage, in her excitement. 

Oh, it has come true ! ” she cried, clasping 
her hands together. “ The gates are really 
opening at last ! 

Yes, the Ogre, whatever may have been its 
name, no longer lived. Its spell was broken, 
for now the giant scissors no longer barred 
the way. Slowly the great gate swung open, 
and the carriage passed through. Joyce sprang 
out and ran on ahead to open the door. Hand 
in hand, just as when they were little children, 
Martin and D6sir6, this white-haired brother 
and sister went back to the old home together ; 
and it was Christmas Day, in the morning. 

At five o’clock that evening the sound of 
Gabriel’s accordeon went echoing up and 
down the garden, and thirty little children 


r 80 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 



were marching to its music along the paths, 
betvjecn the rows of blooming laurel. Joyce 
understood, now, why the room where the 
Christmas tree stood had been kept so care- 
fully locked. For two days that room had 
been empty and the tree had been standing 
in Monsieur Ciseaux’s parlor. Cousin Kate 
and madame and Berths and Marie and 
Gabriel had ail been over there, busily at 
work, and neither she nor Jules had suspected 
what was going on down-stairs. 

Now she marched with the others, out of 
the garden and across the road, keeping time 
to the music of the wheezy old accordeon that 
Gabriel played so proudly. Surely every soul, 
in all that long procession filing through the 
gate of the giant scissors, belonged to the 


CHRISTMAS. 


I8l 




kingdom of loving hearts and gentle hands; 
for they were all children who passed through, 
or else mothers who carried in their arms the 
little ones who, but for these faithful arms, 
must have missed this Ned fete. 

Jules had been carried down-stairs and laid 
on a couch in the corner of the room where he 
could see the tree to its best advantage. Beside 
him sat his great-aunt, Desird dressed in a 
satin gown of silvery gray that had been her 
mother’s, and looking as if she had just stepped 
out from the frame of the portrait up-stairs. 
She held Jules’s hand in hers, as if with it she 
grasped the other Jules, the little brother of 
the olden days for whom this child had been 
named. And she told him stories of his grand- 
father and his father. Then Jules found that 


I»2 THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS. 

this Aunt Desire had known his mother; had 
once sat on the vine-covered porch while he 
ran after fireflies on the lawn in his little white 
dress ; had heard the song the voice still sang 
to him in his dreams : 

“ Till the stars and the angels come to keep 
Their watch where my baby lies fast asleep.” 

When she told him this, with her hand 
stroking his and folding it tight with many 
tender little claspings, he felt that he had 
found a part of his old home, too, as well as 
Aunt Desire. 

One by one the tapers began to glow on the 
great tree, and when it was all ablaze the doors 
were opened for the children to flock in. They 
stood about the room, bewildered at first, for 
not one of them had ever seen such a sight 
before; a tree that glittered and sparkled and 
shone, that bore stars and rainbows and snow 
wreaths and gay toys. At first they only drew 
deep, wondering breaths, and looked at each 
other with shining eyes. It was all so beau- 
tiful and so strange. 

Joyce flew here and there, helping to dis- 
tribute the gifts, feeling her heart grow warmer 


CHRISTMAS. 


183 


and warmer as she watched the happy children. 
‘‘ My little daughter never had anything like 
that in all her life,” said one grateful mother 
as Joyce laid a doll in the child’s outstretched 
arms. “ She’ll never forget this to her dying day, 
nor will any of us, dear mademoiselle ! We knew 
not what it was to have so beautiful a Noel ! ” 

When the last toy had been stripped from 
the branches, it was Cousin Kate’s turn to be 
surprised. At a signal from madame, the chil- 
dren began circling around the tree, singing a 
song that the sisters at the village school had 
taught them for the occasion. It was a happy 
little song about the green pine-tree, king of all 
trees and monarch of the woods, because of 
the crown he yearly wears at Noel. At the 
close every child came up to madame and 
Cousin Kate and Joyce, to say “Thank you, 
madame,” and “ Good night,” in the politest 
way possible. 

Gabriel’s accordeon led them out again, and 
the music, growing fainter and fainter, died 
away in the distance ; but in every heart that 
heard it had been born a memory whose music 
could never be lost, — the memory of one happy 
Christmas. 


184 the gate of the giant scissors. 

Joyce drew a long breath when it was 
all over, and, with her arm around Madame 
Ddsir6’s shoulder, smiled down at Jules. 

“ How beautifully it has all ended ! ” she 
exclaimed. am sorry that we have come 
to the place to say ‘ and they all lived happily 
ever after,’ for that means that it is time to 
shut the book.” 

*‘Dear heart,” murmured Madame D6sir6, 
drawing the child closer to her, “ it means 
that a far sweeter story is just beginning, 
and it is you who have opened the book 
for me.” 

Joyce flushed with pleasure, saying, ‘‘I 
thought this Christmas would be so lonely ; 
but it has been the happiest of my life.” 

‘‘And mine, too,” said Monsieu" I^iseaux 
from the other side of Jules’s cou^n. He 
took the little fellow’s hand in his. “They 
told me about the tree that you prepared for 
me. I have been up to look at it, and now I 
have come to thank you.” To the surprise of 
every one in the room, monsieur bent over and 
kissed the flushed little face on the pillow. 
Jules reached up, and, putting his arms around 
his uncle’s neck, laid his cheek a moment 





“HE TOOK THE LITTLE FELLOW’S HAND IN HIS. 



I > 

'i . , 



1; 

1 

i 


« 


t 



4 


I 


I 


I 


» 





CHRISTMAS. 


187 


against the face of his stern old kinsman. 
Not a word was said, but in that silent 
caress every barrier of coldness and reserve 
was forever broken down between them. So 
the little Prince came into his kingdom, — the 
kingdom of love and real home happiness. 

It is summer now, and far away in the little 
brown house across the seas Joyce thinks of 
her happy winter in France and the friends 
that she found through the gate of the giant 
scissors. And still those scissors hang over 
the gate, and may be seen to this day, by any 
one who takes the trouble to ^alk up the hill 
from the little village that lies just across the 
river Loire, from the old town of Tours. 


THE END. 







rWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF 
KENTUCKY 


TO 

Margaret and Albion, 
Mary, Helen, Lura and Rose, 
William and George 



CHAPTKR 

I. 

Two Tramps and a Bear , 

• 

a 

PAQB 

II 

II. 

Ginger and the Boys . 

• 

• 

31 

III. 

The Valentine Party 

• 

• 

51 

IV. 

A Fire and a Plan 

• 

• 

76 

V. 

Jonesy’s Benefit . 

• 

• 

98 

VI. 

The Little Colonel’s Two 

Rescues 

124 

VII. 

A Game of Indian 

• 

• 

143 

VIII. 

“ Fairchance ”... 

. 

• 

‘ 169 



TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF 
KENTUCKY. 


CHAPTER I. 

TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 

It was the coldest Saint Valentine’ s^^ve that 
Kentucky had known in twenty years. In 
Lloydsborough Valley a thin sprinkling of snow 
whitened the meadows, enough to show the 
footprints of every hungry rabbit that loped 
across them ; but there were not many such 
tracks. It was so cold that the rabbits, for 
all their thick fur, were glad to run home and 
hide. Nobody cared to be out long in such 
weather, and except now and then, when an 
ice-cutter’s wagon creaked up from some pond 
. li 


12 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

to the frozen pike, the wintry stillness was 
unbroken. 

On the north side of the little country depot 
a long row of icicles hung from the eaves. 
Even the wind seemed to catch its breath 
there, and hurry on with a shiver that reached 
to the telegraph wires overhead. It shivered 
down the long stovepipe, too, inside the wait- 
ing-room. The stove had been kept red-hot 
all that dull gray afternoon, but the window- 
panes were still white with heavy frost- 
work. 

Half an hour before the five o’clock train was 
due from the city, two boys came running up 
the railroad track with their skates in their 
hands. They were handsome, sturdy little fel- 
lows, so well buttoned up in their leather 
leggins and warm reefer overcoats that they 
scarcely felt the cold. Their cheeks were red 
as winter apples, from skating against the wind, 
and they were almost breathless after their long 
run up-hill to the depot. Racing across the 
platform, they bumped against the door at the 
same instant, burst it noisily open, and slammed 
it behind them with a bang that shook the 
entire building. 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. IJ 

^‘What kind of a cyclone has struck us 
now ? ” growled the ticket agent, who was in 
the next room. Then he frowned, as the first 
noise was followed by the rasping sound of a 
bench being dragged out of a corner, to a place 
nearer the stove. It scraped the bare floor every 
inch of the way, with a jarring motion that made 
the windows rattle. 

Stretching himself half-way out of his chair, 
the ticket agent pushed up the wooden slide 
of the little window far enough for him to peep 
into the waiting-room. Then he hastily shoved 
it down again. 

** It’s the two little chaps who came out from 
the city last week,” he said to the station- 
master. The MacIntyre boys. You’d think 
they own the earth from the way they dash in 
and take possession of things.” 

The station-master liked boys. He stroked 
his gray beard and chuckled. “ Well, Meyers,” 
he said, slowly, ^‘when you come to think of 
it, their family always has owned a pretty fair 
slice of the earth and its good things, and those 
same little lads have travelled nearly all over it, 
although the oldest can’t be more than ten. It 
would be a wonder if they didn’t have that 


14 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY". 

lordly way of making themselves at home 
wherever they go.” 

“ Will they be out here all winter } ” asked 
Meyers, who was a newcomer in Lloydsborough. 

“Yes, their father and mother have gone to 
Florida, and left them here with their grand- 
mother MacIntyre.” 

“ I imagine the old lady has her hands full,” 
said Meyers, as a sound of scuffling in the next 
room reached him. 

“ Oh, I don’t know about that, now,” said the 
station-master. “They’re noisy children, to be 
sure, and just boiling over with mischief, but if 
you can find any better-mannered little gentle- 
men anywhere in the State when there’s ladies 
around. I’d like you to trot ’em out. They came 
down to the train with their aunt this morning. 
Miss Allison MacIntyre, and their politeness to 
her was something pretty to see, I can tell you, 
sir.” 

There was a moment’s pause, in which the 
boys could be heard laughing in the next 
room. 

“ No,” said the station-master again, “ I’m 
thinking it’s not the boys who will be keeping 
Mrs. MacIntyre’s hands full this winter^ ^o 




TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 1 5 

much as that little granddaughter of hers that 
came here last fall, — little Virginia Dudley. You 
can guess what’s she like from her nickname. 
They call her Ginger. She had always lived at 
some army post out West, until her father. Cap- 
tain Dudley, was ordered to Cuba. He was 
wounded down there, and has never been en- 
tirely well since. When he found they were 
going to keep him there all winter, he sent for 
his wife last September, and there was nothing 
to do with Virginia but to bring her back to 
Kentucky to her grandmother.” 

“ Oh, she’s the little girl who went in on the 
train this morning with Miss Allison,” said the 
ticket agent. “ I suppose the boys have come 
down to meet them. They’ll have a long time 
to wait.” 

While this conversation was going on behind 
the ticket window, the two boys stretched them- 
selves out on a long bench beside the stove. 
The warm room made them feel drows} after 
their violent out-door exercise. Keith, the 
younger one, yawned several times, and finally 
lay down on the bench with his cap for a pillow. 
He was eight years old, but curled up in that 
fashion, with his long eyelashes resting on his 


10 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

red cheeks, and one plump little hand tucked 
under his chin, he looked much younger. 

*‘Wake me up, Malcolm, when it’s time foi 
Aunt Allison’s train,” he said to his brother. 

Ginger would never stop teasing me she 
should find me asleep.” 

Malcolm unbuttoned his reefer, and, after 
much tugging, pulled out a handsome little gold 
watch. “ Oh, there’s a long time to wait ! ” he 
exclaimed. “We need not have left the pond 
so early, for the train will not be here for 
twenty-five minutes. I believe I’ll curl up 
here myself, till then. I hope they won’t 
forget the valentines we sent for.” 

The room was very still for a few minutes. 
There was no sound at all except the crackling of 
the fire and the shivering of the wind in the 
long stovepipe. Then some one turned the 
door-knob so cautiously and slowly that it 
unlatched without a sound. 

It was the cold air rushing into the room as 
the door was pushed ajar that aroused the boys. 
After one surprised glance they sat up, for the 
man, who was slipping into the room as stealthily 
as a burglar, was the worstdooking tramp they 
had ever seen. There was a long, ugly red scar 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 


17 

across his face, running from his cheek to the 
middle of his forehead, and partly closing one 
eye. Perhaps 
it was the scar 
that gave him 
such a queer, 
evil sort of an 
expression ; 
even without 
it he would 
have been a 
repulsive sight. 

His clothes 
were dirty and 
ragged, and his 
breath had 
frozen in ici- 
cles on his 
stubby red 
beard. 

Behind him 
came a boy no 
larger than Keith, but with a hard, shrewd look 
in his hungry little face that made one feel he 
had lived a long time and learned more than 
was good for him to know. It was plain to 



1 8 • TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

be seen that he was nearly starved, and suf- 
fering from the intense cold. His bare toes 
peeped through their ragged shoes, and he 
had no coat. A thin cotton shirt and a piece 
of an old gray horse-blanket was all that pro- 
tected his shoulders from the icy wind of that 
February afternoon. He, too, crept in noise- 
lessly, as if expecting to be ordered out at the 
first sound, and then turned to coax in some 
animal that was tied to one end of the rope 
which he held. 

Malcolm and Keith looked oh with interest, 
and sprang up excitedly as the animal finally 
shuffled in far enough for the boy to close the 
door behind it. It was a great, shaggy bear, 
taller than the man when it sat up on its 
haunches beside him. 

The tramp looked uneasily around the room 
for an instant, but seeing no one save the two 
children, ventured nearer the stove. The boy 
followed him, and the bear shuffled along behind 
them both, limping painfully. Not a word was 
said for a moment. The boys were casting 
curious glances at the three tramps who had 
come in as noiselessly as if they had snowed 
down, and the man was watching the boys 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. IQ 

with shrewd eyes. Fie did not seem to be look- 
ing at them, but at the end of his survey he 
could have descril^ed them accurately. He had 
noticed every detail of their clothing, from their 
expensive leather leggins to their fur-lined 
gloves. He glanced at Malcolm’s watch-chain 
and the fine skates which Keith swung back 
and forth by a strap, and made up his mind, 
correctly, too, that the pockets of these boys 
rarely lacked the jingle of money which they 
could spend as they pleased. 

When he turned away to hold his hands out 
toward the stove, he rubbed them together 
with satisfaction, for he had discovered more 
than that. He knew from their faces that 
they were trusting little souls, who would 
believe any story he might tell them, if he 
appealed to their sympathies in the right 
way. He was considering how to begin, when 
Malcolm broke the silence. 

Is that a trained bear ? 

The man nodded. 

What can it do ? ” was the next question. 

Oh, lots of things,” answered the man, in a 
low, whining voice. ** Drill like a soldier, and 
dance, and ride a stick.” He kept his shifty 


20 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

eyes turning constantly toward the door, as if 
afraid some one might overhear him. 

‘‘ I’d put him through his paces for you young 
gen’lemen,” he said, “but he got his foot hurt 
for one thing, and another is, if we went to 
showing off, we might be ordered to move on. 
This is the first time we’ve smelled a fire in 
twenty-four hours, and we ain’t in no hurry to 
leave it, I can tell you.” 

“Will he bite.^” asked Keith, going up to 
the huge bear, which had stretched itself out 
comfortably on the floor. 

“ Not generally. He’s a good-tempered brute, 
most times like a lamb. But he ain’t had noth- 
ing to eat all day, so it wouldn’t be surprising 
if he was a bit snappish.” 

“Nothing to eat!” echoed Keith. “You 
poor old thing ! ” Going a step closer, he put 
out his hand and stroked the bear, as if it had 
been a great dog. 

“Oh, Malcolm, just feel how soft his fur is, 
like mamma’s beaver jacket. And he has the 
kindest old face. Poor old fellow, is you 
hungry? Never mind, Keith’ll get you some 
thing to eat pretty soon.” 

.♦Putting his short, plump arms around the 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 


21 


animal’s neck, he hugged it lovingly up to him. 
A cunning gleam came into the man’s eyes. 
He saw that he had gained the younger boy’s 
sympathy, and he wanted Malcolm’s also. 

“ Is your home near here, my little gen’le- 
man ” he asked, in a friendly tone. 

‘‘No, we live in the city,” answered Mal- 
colm, “ but my grandmother’s place, where we 
are staying, is not far from here.” He was 
stroking the bear with one hand as he spoke, 
and hunting in his pocket with the other, hop- 
ing to find some stray peanuts to give it. 

“ Then maybe you know of some place where 
we could stay to-night. Even a shed to crawl 
into would keep us from freezing. It’s an 
awful cold night not to have a roof over your 
head, or a crust to gnaw on, or a spark of fire 
to keep life in your body.” 

“ Maybe they’d let you stay in the waiting- 
room,” suggested Malcolm. “ It is always good 
and warm in here. I’ll ask the station-master. 
He’s a friend of mine.” 

“ Oh, no ! No, don’t ! ” exclaimed the tramp, 
hastily, pulling his old hat farther over his fore- 
head, as if to hide the scar, and looking uneasily 
around. “ I wouldn’t have you do that for any- 


22 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

thing. I’ve had dealings with such folks before, 
and I know how they’d treat me, I thought 
maybe there was a barn or a hay-shed or some- 
thing on your grandmother’s place, where we 
could lay up for repairs a couple of days. The 
beast needs a rest. Its foot’s sore ; and Jonesy 
there is pretty near to lung fever, judging from 
the way he coughs.” He nodded toward the 
boy, who had placed his chair as close to 
the stove as possible. The child’s face was 
drawn into a pucker by the tingling pains in 
his half-frozen feet, and his efforts to keep 
from coughing. 

Malcolm looked at him steadily. He had 
read about boys who were homeless and hungry 
and cold, but he had never really understood 
how much it meant to be all that. This was 
the first time in his ten short years that he had 
ever come close to real poverty. He had seen 
the swarms of beggars that infest such cities as 
Naples and Rome, and had tossed them coppers 
because that seemed a part of the programme 
in travelling. He had not really felt* sorry for 
them, for they did not seem to mind it. They 
sat on the steps in the warm Italian sunshine, 
ai,td waited for tourists to throw them money. 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 23 

as comfortably as toads sit blinking at flies. 
But this was different. A wave of pity swept 
through Malcolm’s generous little heart as he 
looked at Jonesy, and the man watching him 
shrewdly saw it. 

‘‘ Of course,” he whined, a little gen’leman 
like you don’t know what it is to go from town 
to town and have every door shut in your face. 
You don’t think that this is a hard-hearted, 
stingy old world, because it has given you the 
cream of everything. But if you’d never had 
anything all your life but other people’s scraps 
and leavings, and you hadn’t any home or 
friends or money, and was sick besides, you’d 
think things wasn’t very evenly divided. Wouldn’t 
you now ? You’d think it wasn’t right that 
some should have all that heart can wish, 
and others not enough to keep soul and body 
together. If you’d a-happened to be Jonesy, 
and Jonesy had a-happened to ’a’ been you, I 
reckon you’d feel it was pretty tough to see 
such a big difference between you. It doesn’t 
seem fair now, does it?” 

No,” admitted Malcolm, faintly. He had 
taken a dislike to the man. He could not have 
told why, but his child instinct armed him with 


24 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

a sudden distrust. Still, he felt the force of 
the whining appeal, and the burden of an obliga- 
tion to help them seemed laid upon his shoulders. 

“ Grandmother is afraid for anybody to sleep 
in the barn, on account of fire,” he said, after 
a moment’s thought, ‘^and I’m sure she wouldn’t 
let you come into the house without you’d had 
a bath and some clean clothes. Grandmother is 
dreadfully particular,” he added, hastily, not 
wanting to be impolite even to a tramp. ‘‘ Seems 
to me Keith and I have to spend half our time 
washing our hands and putting on clean collars.” 

“ Oh, I know a place,” cried Keith. ‘‘There’s 
that empty cabin down by the spring-house. 
Nobody has lived in it since the new servants’ 
cottage was built. There isn’t any furniture in 
it, but there’s a fireplace in one room, and it 
would be warmer than the barn.” 

“ That’s just the trick ! ” exclaimed Malcolm. 
“We can carry a pile of hay over from the 
barn for you to sleep on. Aunt Allison will be 
out on this next train and I’ll ask her. I am 
sure she will let you, because last night, when it 
was so cold, she said she felt sorry for any- 
thing that had to be out in it, even the poor old 
cedar-trees, with the sleet on their branches. 


TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 2 $ 

She said that it was King Lear’s own weather, 
and she could understand how Cordelia felt when 
she said, * Mme e^iemy s dog^ though he had bit 
mey should have stood that night against my 
fire!' It is just like auntie to feel that way 
about it, only she’s so good to everybody she 
couldn’t have any enemies.” 

Something like a smile moved the tramp’s 
stubby beard. “ So she’s that kind, is she } 
Well, if she could have a soft spot for a dog 
that had bit her, and an enemy’s dog at that, it 
stands to reason that she wouldn’t object to 
some harmless travellers a-sleeping in an empty 
cabin a couple of nights. S’pose’n you show 
us the place, sonny, and we’ll be moving on.” 

“ Oh, it wouldn’t be right not to ask her 
first,” exclaimed Malcolm. “ She’ll be here in 
such a little while.” 

The man looked uneasy. Presently he walked 
over to the window and scraped a peep-hole 
on the frosted pane with his dirty thumb- 
nail. ‘‘ Sun’s down,” he said. “ I’d like to get 
that bear’s foot fixed comfortable before it 
grows any darker. I’d like to mighty well. 
It’ll take some time to heat water to dress it. 
Is that cabin far from here V 


26 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Not if we go in at the back of the place,’* 
said Malcolm. ‘‘ It’s just across the meadow, 
and over a little hill. If we went around by 
the big front gate it would be a good deal 
longer.” 

The man shifted uneasily from one foot 
to another, and complained of being hungry. 
He was growing desperate. For more reasons 
than one he did not want to be at the station 
when the train came in. That long red scar 
across his face had been described a number of 
times in the newspapers, and he did not care 
to be recognised just then. 

The boys could not have told how it came 
about, but in a few minutes they were leading 
the way toward the cabin. The man had per- 
suaded them that it was not at all necessary to 
wait for their Aunt Allison’s permission, and 
that it was needless to trouble their grand- 
mother. Why should the ladies be bothered 
about a matter that the boys were old enough 
to decide ? So well had he argued, and so tact- 
fully had he flattered them, that when they took 
their way across the field, it was with the feel- 
ing that they were doing their highest duty 
in getting these homeless wayfarers to the 











TWO TRAMPS AND A BEAR. 29 

cabin as quickly as possible, on their own 
responsibility. 

We can get back in time to meet the train, if 
we hurry,” said Malcolm, looking at his watch 
again. ‘‘ There’s still fifteen minutes.” 

No one saw the little procession file out of 
the waiting-room and across the snowy field, for 
it was growing dark, and the lamps were 
lighted and the curtains drawn in the few 
houses they passed. Malcolm went first, 
proudly leading the friendly old bear. Jonesy 
came next beside Keith, and the man shuffled 
along in the rear, looking around with sus- 
picious glances whenever a twig snapped, or 
a distant dog barked. 

As the wind struck against Jonesy’s body, he 
drew the bit of blanket more closely around 
him, and coughed hoarsely. His teeth were 
chattering and his lips blue. “You look 
nearly frozen,” said Keith, who, well-clad and 
well-fed, scarcely felt the cold. “ Here ! put 
this on, or you’ll be sick.” Unbuttoning his 
thick little reefer, he pulled it off and tied 
its sleeves around Jonesy’s neck. 

A strange look passed over the face of the 
man behind them. “ Blessed if the little kid 


30 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

didn’t take it off his own back,” he muttered. 
“ If any man had ever done that for me — just 
once — well, maybe, I wouldn’t ha’ been what 
I am now ! ” 

For a moment, as they reached the top of 
the hill, bear, boys, and man were outlined 
blackly against the sky like strange silhouettes. 
Then they passed over and disappeared in the 
thick clump of pine-trees, which hid the little 
cabin from the eyes of the surrounding world. 


CHAPTER II. 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 

In less time than one would think possible, 
a big fire was roaring in the cabin fireplace, 
water was steaming in the rusty kettle on the 
crane, and a pile of hay and old carpet lay in 
one corner, ready to be made into a bed. Keith 
had made several trips to the kitchen, and came 
back each time with his hands full. 

Old Daphne, the cook, never could find it in 
her heart to refuse ‘‘Marse Sydney’s” boys 
anything. They were too much like what their 
father had been at their age to resist their 
playful coaxing. She had nursed him when he 
was a baby, and had been his loyal champion 
all through his boyhood. Now her black face 
wrinkled into smiles whenever she heard his 
name spoken. In her eyes, nobody was quite 
so near perfection as he, except, perhaps, the 
fair woman whom he had married. 

31 


32 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

** Kain’t nobody in ten States hole a can’le to 
my Marse Sidney an’ his Miss Elise,” old 
Daphne used to say, proudly. They sut’n’ly 
is the handsomest couple evah jined togethah, 
an’ the free-handedest. In all they travels 
by sea or by land they nevah fo’gits ole 
Daphne. I’ve got things from every country 
undah the shinin’ sun what they done brung 
me.” 

Now, all the services she had once been 
proud to render them were willingly given to 
their little sons. When Keith came in with 
a pitiful tale of a tramp who was starving at 
their very gates, she gave him even more than 
he asked for, and almost more than he could 
carry. 

The bear and its masters were so hungry, 
and their two little hosts so interested in watch- 
ing them eat, that they forgot all about going 
back to meet the train. They did not even 
hear it whistle when it came puffing into the 
Valley. 

As Miss Allison stepped from the car to the 
station platform, she looked around in vain for 
the boys who had promised to meet her. Her 
arms were so full of bundles, as suburban pas- 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


33 


sengers’ usually are, that she could not hold up 
her long broadcloth skirt, or even turn her 
handsome fur collar higher over her ears. With 
a shade of annoyance on her pretty face, she 
swept across the platform and into the waiting- 
room, out of the cold. 

Behind her came a little girl about ten years 
old, as unlike her as possible, although it was 
Virginia Dudley’s ambition to be exactly like her 
Aunt Allison. She wanted to be tall, and slen- 
der, and grown up ; Miss Allison was that, and 
yet she had kept all her lively girlish ways, and 
a love of fun that made her charming to 
everybody, young and old. Virginia longed 
for wavy brown hair and white hands, and 
especially for a graceful, easy manner. Her 
hair was short and black, and her complexion 
like a gypsy’s. She had hard, brown little 
fists, sharp gray eyes that seemed to see 
everything at once, and a tongue that was 
always getting her into trouble. As for 
the ease of manner, that might come in time, 
but her stately old grandmother often sighed in 
secret over Virginia’s awkwardness. 

She stumbled now as she followed the young 
lady into the waiting-room. Her big, plume- 


34 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 


covered hat tipped over one ear, but she, too, 
had so many bundles, that she could not spare a 
hand to straighten 

it. 

“Well, Virginia, 
what do you sup- 
pose has become 
of the boys ? " 
asked her aunt. 

“ They promised 
to meet us and 
carry our pack- 
ages." 

“I heard them 
in here about half 
an hour ago, Miss 
Allison," said the 
station-master, who 
had come in with a 
lantern.* “ I s’pose 
they got tired of 
waiting. Better 
leave your things 
here, hadn’t you ? 
ril watch them. 

It is mighty slippery walking this evening.” 



GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


35 


“ Oh, thank you, Mr. Mason,” she answered, 
beginning to pile boxes and packages upon a 
bench. I’ll send Pete down for them immedi, 
ately. Now, Virginia, turn up your coat collar 
and hold your muff over your nose, or Jack 
Frost will make an icicle out of you before 
you are half-way home. 

They had been in the house some time 
before the boys remembered their promise to 
meet them at the station. When they saw 
how late it was, they started home on the run. 

I am fairly aching to tell Ginger about that 
bear,” panted Keith, as they reached the side 
door. “ I am so sorry that we promised the man 
not to say anything about them being on the 
place, before he sees us again to-morrow. I 
wonder why he asked us that.” 

I don’t know,” answered Malcolm. ‘‘He 
seemed to have some very good reason, and he 
talked about it so that it didn’t seem right not 
to promise a little thing like that.” 

“ I wish we hadn’t, though,” said Keith, 
again. 

“ But it’s done now,” persisted Malcolm. 
“We’re bound not to tell, and you can’t get 
out of it, for he made us give him our word ‘ on 


36 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

the honour of a gentleman ; ’ and that settles it, 
you know.” 

They were two very dirty boys who clattered 
up the back stairs, and raced to their room to 
dress for dinner. Their clothes were covered 
with hayseed and straw, and their hands and 
faces were black with soot from the old cabin 
chimney. They had both helped to build the fire. 

The lamps had just been lighted in the upper 
hall, and Virginia came running out from her 
room when she heard the boys’ voices. 

** Why didn’t you meet us at the train } ” she 
began, but stopped as she saw their dirty faces. 

Where on earth have you chimney-sweeps 
been ? ” she cried. 

“ Oh, about and about,” answered Malcolm, 
teasingly. “ Don’t you wish you knew ? ” 

Virginia shrugged her shoulders, as if she 
had not the slightest interest in the matter, 
and held out two packages. 

“ Here are the valentines you sent for. You 
just ought to see the pile that Aunt Allison 
bought. We’ve the best secret about to-mor- 
row that ever was.” 

‘‘So have we,” began Keith, but Malcolm 
•clapped a sooty hand over his mouth and pulled 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


17 


him toward the door of their room. “Come 
on,” he said. “ WeVe barely time to dress for 
dinner. Don’t you know enough to keep still, 
you little magpie.^” he exclaimed, as the door 
banged behind them. “ The only way to keep 
a secret is not to act like you have one ! ” 

Virginia walked slowly back to her room and 
paused in the doorway, wondering what she 
could do to amuse herself until dinner-time. 
It was a queer room for a girl, decorated 
with flags and Indian trophies and every- 
thing that could remind her of the military life 
she loved, at the far-away army post. There 
were photographs framed in brass buttons on 
her dressing-table, and pictures of uniformed 
officers all over the walls. A canteen and an 
army cap with a bullet-hole through the crown, 
hung over her desk, and a battered bugle, that 
had sounded many a triumphant charge, swung 
from the corner of her mirror. 

Each souvenir had a history, and had been 
given her at parting by some special friend. 
Every one at the fort had made a pet of Cap- 
tain Dudley’s daughter, — the harum-scarum 
little Ginger, — who would rather dash across 
the prairies on her pony, like a wild Comanche 


38 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Indian, than play with the finest doll ever 
imported from Paris. 

There was a suit in her wardrobe, short skirt, 
jacket, leggins, and moccasins, all made and 
beaded by the squaws. It was the gift of the 
colonel’s wife. Mrs. Dudley had hesitated 
some time before putting it in one of the 
trunks that was to go back to Kentucky. 

‘‘You look so much like an Indian now,” she 
said to Virginia. “Your face is so sunburned 
that I am afraid your grandmother will be scan- 
dalised. I don’t know what she would say if 
she knew that I ever allowed you to run so 
wild. If I had known that you were going 
back to civilisation I certainly should not have 
kept your hair cut short, and you should have 
worn sunbonnets all summer.” 

To Mrs. Dudley’s great surprise, her little 
daughter threw herself into her arms, sobbing, 
“ Oh, mamma ! I don’t want to go back to 
Kentucky ! Take me to Cuba with you ! Please 
do, or else let me stay here at the post. Every- 
body will take care of me here! I’ll just die if 
you leave me in Kentucky I ” 

“Why, darling,” she said, soothingly, as she 
wiped her tears away and rocked her back and 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


39 


forth in her arms, I thought you have always 
wanted to see mamma’s old home, and the 
places you have heard so much about. There 
are all the old toys in the nursery that we had 
when we were children, and the grape-vine swing 
in the orchard, and the mill-stream where we 
fished, and the beech-woods where we had such 
delightful picnics. I thought it would be so 
nice for you to do all the same things that 
made me so happy when I was a child, and 
go to school in the same old Girls’ College 
and know all the dear old neighbours that I 
knew. Wouldn’t my little girl like that ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, some, I s’pose,” sobbed Virginia, 
‘‘but I didn’t know I’d have to be so — so — ^ 
everlastingly — civilised ! ” she wailed. “ I don’t 
want to always have to dress just so, and have to 
walk in a path and be called Virginia all the time. 
That sounds so stiff and proper. I’d rather 
stay where people don’t mind if I am sun- 
burned and tanned, and won’t be scandalised 
at everything I do. It’s so much nicer to be 
just plain Ginger ! 

It had been five months, now, since Virginia 
left Fort Dennis. At first she had locked her- 
self in her room nearly every day, and, with her 


40 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

face buried in her Indian suit, cried to go back. 
She missed the gay military life of the army 
post, as a sailor would miss the sea, or an 
Alpine shepherd the free air of his snow-capped 
mountain heights. 

It was not that she did not enjoy being at 
her grandmother’s. She liked the great gray 
house whose square corner tower and over- 
hanging vines made it look like an old castle. 
She liked the comfort and elegance of the big 
stately rooms, and she had her grandmother’s 
own pride in the old family portraits and the 
beautiful carved furniture. The negro ser- 
vants seemed so queer and funny to her that 
she found them a great source of amusement, 
and her Aunt Allison planned so many pleasant 
occupations outside of school-hours that she 
scarcely had time to get lonesome. But she 
had a shut-in feeling, like a wild bird in a cage, 
and sometimes the longing for liberty which 
her mother had allowed her made her fret 
against the thousand little proprieties she had to 
observe. Sometimes when she went tipping 
over the polished floors of the long drawing 
room, and caught sight of herself in one of the 
big mirrors, she felt that she was not herself at 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


41 


all, but somebody in a story. The Virginia in 
the looking-glass seemed so very, very civilised. 
More than once, after one of these meetings with 
herself in the mirror, she dashed up-stairs, locked 
her door, and dressed herself in her Indian suit. 
Then in her noiseless moccasins she danced 
the wildest of war-dances, whispering shrilly 
between her teeth, “ Now I’m Ginger ! Now 
I’m Ginger ! And I ivont be dressed up, and I 
wont learn my lessons, and I wont be a little 
lady, and I’ll run away and go back to Fort 
Dennis the very first chance I get ! ” 

Usually she was ashamed of these outbursts 
afterwards, for it always happened that after 
each one she found her Aunt Allison had 
planned something especially pleasant for her 
entertainment. Miss Allison felt sorry for the 
lonely child, who had never been separated 
from her father and mother before, so she 
devoted her time to her as much as possible, 
telling her stories and entering into her plays 
and pleasures as if they had 'both been the same 
age. 

Since the boys had come, Virginia had not 
had a single homesick moment. While she 
was at school in the primary department of 


42 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

the Girls’ College, Malcolm and Keith were 
reciting their lessons to the old minister who 
lived across the road from Mrs. MacIntyre’s. 
They were all free about the same hour, and 
even on the coldest days played out-of-doors 
from lunch-time until dark. 

To-night Virginia had so many experiences 
to tell them of her day in town that the boys 
seemed unusually long in dressing. She was 
so impatient for them to hear her news that 
she could not settle down to anything, but 
walked restlessly around the room, wishing they 
would hurry. 

“ Oh, I haven’t sorted my valentines ! ” she 
exclaimed, presently, picking up a fancy box 
which she had tossed on the bed when she first 
came in. “ I’ll take them down to the library.” 

There was no one in the room when she 
peeped in. It looked so bright and cosy with 
the great wood fire blazing on the hearth and 
the rose-coloured light falling from its softly 
shaded lamps, that she forgot the coldness of 
the night outside. Sitting down on a pile of 
cushions at one end of the hearth-rug, she 
began sorting her purchases, trying to decide 
to whom each one should be sent. 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


43 


“ The prettiest valentine of all must go to 
poor papa,” she said to herself, ’cause he’s 
been so sick away down there in Cuba; and 
this one that’s got the little girl on it in a 



blue dress shall be for my dear^ sweet mamma, 
’cause it will make her think of me.” 

For a moment, a mist seemed to blur the 
gay blue dress of the little valentine girl as 
Virginia looked at her, thinking of her far-away 
mother. She drew her hand hastily across her 
eyes and went on ; 


44 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“This one is for Sergeant Jackson out at 
Fort Dennis, and the biggest one, with the 
doves, for Colonel Philips and his wife. Dear 
me! I wish I could send one to every officer 
and soldier out there. They were all so good 
to me ! ” 

The pile of lace-paper cupids and hearts and 
arrows and roses slipped from her lap, down to 
the rug, as she clasped her hands around her 
knees and looked into the fire. She wished 
that she could be back again at the fort, long 
enough to live one of those beautiful old days 
from reveille to taps. How she loved the bugle- 
calls and the wild thrill the band gave her, when 
it struck up a burst of martial music, and the 
troops went dashing by I How she missed the 
drills and the dress parades ; her rides across 
the open prairie on her pony, beside her father ; 
how she missed the games she used to play 
with the other children at the fort on the long 
summer evenings I 

Something more than a mist was gathering in 
her eyes now. Two big tears were almost ready 
to fall when the door opened and Mrs. MacIntyre 
came in. In Virginia’s eyes she was the most 
beautiful grandmother any one ever had. She 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


45 


was not so tall as her daughter Allison, and in 
that respect fell short of the little girl’s ideal, 
but her hair, white as snow, curled around her 
face in the same soft, pretty fashion, and by 
every refined feature she showed her kinship 
to the aristocratic old faces which looked down 
from the family portraits in the hall. 

“ I couldn’t be as stately and dignified as she 
is if I practised a thousand years,” thought Vir- 
ginia, scrambling up from the pile of cushions 
to roll a chair nearer the fire. As she did so, 
her heel caught in the rug, and she fell back in 
an awkward little heap. 

‘‘The more haste, the less grace, my dear,” 
said her grandmother, kindly, thanking her for 
the proffered chair. Virginia blushed, wonder- 
ing why she always appeared so awkward in her 
grandmother’s presence. She envied the boys 
because they never seemed embarrassed or ill 
at ease before her. 

While she was picking up her valentines the 
boys came in. If two of the cavalier ancestors 
had stepped down from their portrait frames 
just then, they could not have come into the 
room in a more charming manner than Malcolm 
and Keith. Their faces were shining, their 


46 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

linen spotless, and they came up to kiss their 
grandmother’s cheek with an old-time courtli- 
ness that delighted her. 

I am sure that there are no more perfect 
gentlemen in all Kentucky than my two little 
lads,” she said, fondly, with an approving pat 
of Keith’s hand as she held him a moment. 

Virginia, who had seen them half an hour 
before, tousled and dirty, and had been arrayed 
against them in more than one hot quarrel 
where they had been anything but chivalrous, 
let slip a faintly whistled ** aickoo ! ” 

The boys darted a quick glance in her direc- 
tion, but she was bending over the valentines 
with a very serious face, which never changed 
its expression till her Aunt Allison came in 
and the boys began their apologies for not 
meeting her at the train. Their only excuse 
was that they had forgotten all about it. 

Virginia spelled on her fingers : ‘‘ I dare you 
to tell what made your faces so black ! ” Keith’s 
only answer was to thrust his tongue out at her 
behind his grandmother’s back. Then he ran 
to hold the door open for the ladies to pass 
out to dinner, with all the grace of a young 
Chesterfield. 


GINGER AND THE BOYS. 


47 


When dinner was over and they were back 
in the library, Miss Allison opened a box of 
tiny heart-shaped envelopes, and began ad- 
dressing them. As she took up her pen she 
said, merrily : << Now you may tell our secret, 
Virginia.” 

‘‘ I was going to make you guess for about 
an hour,” said Virginia, ‘‘but it is so nice I 
can’t wait that long to tell you. We are going 
to have a valentine party to-morrow night. 
Aunt Allison planned it all a week ago, and 
bought the things for it while we were in town 
to-day. Everything on the table is to be cut 
in heart shape, — the bread and butter and 
sandwiches and cheese ; and the ice-cream will 
be moulded in hearts, and the two big frosted 
cakes are hearts, one pink and one white, with 
candy arrows sticking in them. Then there 
will be peppermint candy hearts with mottoes 
printed on them, and lace-paper napkins with 
verses on them, so that the table itself will look 
like a lovely big valentine. The games are 
lovely, too. One is parlour archery, with a red 
heart in the middle of the target, and twc 
prizes, one for the boys and one for the 
girls” 


48 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Who are invited ? ” asked Malcolm, as 
Virginia stopped for breath. 

‘‘Oh, the Carrington boys, and the Edmunds, 
and Sally Fairfax, and Julia Ferris, — I can’t 
remember them all. There will be twenty-four, 
counting us. There is the list on the table.” 

Keith reached for it, and began slowly spell- 
ing out the names. “ Who is this ” be asked, 
reading the name that headed the list. “ ‘ The 
Little Colonel ! ’ I never heard of him.” 

“ Oh, he’s a girl ! ” laughed Virginia. “ Little 
-Lloyd Sherman, — don’t you know ? She lives 
up at ‘ The Locusts,’ that lovely place with the 
long avenue of trees leading up to the house. 
You’ve surely seen her with her grandfather, 
old Colonel Lloyd, riding by on the horse that 
he calls Maggie Boy.” 

“ Has he only one arm } ” asked Malcolm. 

“Yes, the other was shot off in the war years 
ago. Well, when Lloyd was younger, she had 
a temper so much like his, and wore such a dear 
little Napoleon hat, that everybody took to 
calling her the Little Colonel.” 

“ How old is she now } ” asked Malcolm. 

“About Keith’s age, isn’t she. Aunt Allison ? ” 
asked Virginia. 


GINGER AND THE ROYS. 


49 


“Yes,” was the answer. “She is nearly 
eight, I believe. She has outgrown most of 
her naughtiness now.” 

“ I love to hear her talk,” said Virginia. “ She 
leaves out all of her r’s in such a soft, sweet 
way.” 

“All Southerners do that,” said Malcolm, 
pompously, “and I think it sounds lots better 
than the way Yankees talk.” 

“You boys don’t talk like the Little Colonel,” 
retorted Virginia, who had often been teased by 
them for not being a Southerner. “You’re all 
mixed up every which way. Some things you 
say like darkeys, and some things like English 
people, and it doesn’t sound a bit like the Little 
Colonel.” 

“ Oh, well, that’s because we’ve travelled 
abroad so much, don’t you know,” drawled 
Malcolm, “ and we’ve been in so many different 
countries, and had an English tutor, and all that 
sort of a thing. We couldn’t help picking up 
a bit of an accent, don’t you know.” His supe- 
rior tone made Virginia long to slap him. 

“Yes, I know, Mr. Brag,” she said, in such 
a low voice that her grandmother could not 
hear. “ I know perfectly well. If I didn’t it 


50 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

wouldn’t be because you haven’t told me every 
chance you got. Who did you say is your 
tailor in London, and how many times was it 
the Queen invited you out to Windsor ? I think 
it’s a ninety-nine dollar cravat you always buy, 
isn’t it ? And you wouldn’t be so common 
as to wear a pair of gloves that hadn’t been 
made to order specially for you. Yes, I’ve 
heard all about it ! ” 

Miss Allison heard, but said nothing. She 
knew the boys were a little inclined to boast, 
and she thought Virginia’s sharp tongue might 
have a good effect. But the retort had grown 
somewhat sharper than was pleasant, and, fear- 
ing a quarrel might follow if she did not inter- 
rupt the whispers beside her, she said : 

*^Boys, did you ever hear about the time that 
the Little Colonel threw mud on her grand- 
father’s coat ? There’s no end to her pranks. 
Get grandmother to tell you.” 

“ Oh, yes, please, grandmother,” begged Keith, 
with an arm around her neck. “Tell about 
Fritz and the parrot, too,” said Virginia. “ Here, 
Malcolm, there’s room on this side for you.” 

Aunt Allison smiled. The storm had blown 
over, and they were all friends again. 



***DArHWE, WHAT’S DEM CHILLUN ALLUZ RACIN’ DCiWH 
TO nV SPRING-HOUSE EO’ ? ’ ” 




CHAPTER III. 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 

“ Now we can tell Ginger about the bear/’ 
was Keith’s first remark, when he awoke early 
next morning. 

But not until after we have seen the man 
again,” answered Malcolm. “ You know we 
promised him that.” 

“ Then let’s go down before breakfast,” 
exclaimed Keith, springing out of bed and 
beginning to dress himself. A little while 
later, the old coloured coachman saw them 
run past the window, where he was warming 
himself by the kitchen stove. 

“Daphne,” he called out to the cook, who 
was beating biscuit in the adjoining pantry, 
“ Daphne, what’s dem chillun alluz racin’ down 
to de spring-house fo’ in de snow } Peah’s lak 
dee has a heap o’ business down yandah.” 

Daphne, who had just been coaxed into filling 
53 


54 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

a basket with a generous supply of cold victuals, 
pretended not to hear until he repeated his 
question. Then she stopped pounding long 
enough to say, sharply, “ Whuffo’ you alluz 
’spicion dem boys so evahlastin’ly, Unc’ Henry ? 
Lak enough dee’s settin’ a rabbit trap. Boys 
has done such things befo’. You’s done it 
yo’se’f, hasn’t you ? ” 

Daphne had seen them setting rabbit traps 
there, but she knew well enough that was not 
what they had gone for now, and that the food 
they carried was not for the game of Robinson 
Crusoe, which they had played in the deserted 
cabin the summer before. Still, she did not care 
to take Unc’ Henry into her confidence. 

The food, the warmth, and the night’s rest 
had so restored the bear that it was able to 
go through all its performances for the boys’ 
entertainment, although it limped badly. 

Isn’t he a dandy ? ” cried Keith ; “ I wish 
we had one. It’s nicer than any pets we ever 
had, except the ponies. Something always 
happened to the dogs, and the monkey was 
such a nuisance, and the white rabbits were 
stolen, and the guinea pigs died.” 

Haven’t we had a lot of things, when you 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 


55 


come to think of it?” exclaimed Malcolm. 

Squirrels, and white mice, and the coon that 
Uncle Harry brought us, and the parrot from 
Mexico.” 

“Yes, and the gold-fish, and the little baby 
alligator that froze to death in its tank,” added 
Keith. “But a bear like this would be nicer 
than any of them. As soon as papa comes 
home I am going to ask him to buy »us one.” 

“Jonesy’s nearly done for,” said the tramp, 
pointing to the boy who lay curled up in the 
hay, coughing at nearly every breath. “We 
ought to stay here another day, if you young 
gen’lemen don’t object.” 

“Oh, goody!” cried Keith. “Then we can 
bring Ginger down to see the bear perform.” 

“Yes,” answered the man, “we’ll give a 
free show to all your friends, if you will only 
kindly wait till to-morrow. Give us one more 
day to rest up and get in a little better trim. 
The poor beast’s foot is still too lame for him 
to do his best, and you’re too kind-hearted, I 
am sure, to want anything to suffer in order 
to give you pleasure.” 

“ Of course,” answered both the boys, agree- 
ing so quickly to all the man’s smooth speeches 


56 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

that, before they left the cabin, they had re- 
newed their promise to keep silent one more 
day. The man was a shrewd one, and knew 
well how to make these unsuspecting little 
souls serve his purpose, like puppets tied to a 
string. 

Miss Allison was so busy with preparations 
for the party that she had no time all that day 
to notice what the boys were doing. When 
they came back from reciting their lessons to 
the minister, she sent them on several errands, 
but the rest of the time they divided between 
the cabin and the post-office. 

Every mail brought a few valentiner to each 
of them, but it was not until the five o’clock 
train came that they found the long-looked-for 
letters from their father and mother. 

*‘I knew they’d each send us a valentine,” 
cried Keith, tearing both of his open. I’ll 
bet that papa’s is a comic one. Yes, here it 
is. Papa is such a tease. Isn’t it a stunner ? 
a base-ball player. And, whoopee ! Here’s ^ 
dollar bill in each of ’em.” 

“ So there is in mine,” said Malcolm. 
“ Mamma says we are to buy anything we 
K^ant, and call it a valentine. They couldn’t 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 5/ 

find anything down on the coast that they 
thought we would like.” 

“ I don’t know what to get with mine,” said 
Keith, folding his two bills together. Seems 
to me I have everything I want except a cam- 
era, and I couldn’t buy the kind I want for two 
dollars.” 

They were half-way home when a happy 
thought came to Malcolm. “ Keith,” he cried, 
excitedly, if you would put your money with 
mine, that would make four dollars, and maybe 
it would be enough to buy that bear ! ” 

Let’s do it ! ” exclaimed Keith, turning a 
handspring in the snow to show his delight. 
“ Come on, we’ll ask the man now.” 

But the man shook his head, when they 
dashed into the cabin and told their errand. 
“No, sonny, that ain’t a tenth of what it’s 
worth to me,” he said. “ I’ve raised that bear 
from the time it was a teeny cub. I’ve taught 
it, and fed it, and looked to it for company 
when I hadn’t nobody in the world to care for 
me. Couldn’t sell that bear for no such sum 
as that. Couldn’t you raise any more money 
than that } ” 

It was Malcolm’s turn to shake his head. 


58 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

He turned away, too disappointed to trust 
himself to answer any other way. The tears 
sprang to Keith’s eyes. He had set his heart 
on having that bear. 

‘‘ Never mind, brother,” said Malcolm, mov- 
ing toward the door. ** Papa will get us one 
when he comes home and finds how much we 
want one.” 

“ Oh, don’t be in such a hurry, young gen’le- 
men,” whined the man, when he saw that they 
were really going. I didn’t say that I wouldn’t 
sell it to you for that much. You’ve been so 
kind to me that I ought to be willing to make 
any sacrifice for you. I happen to need four 
dollars very particular just now, and I’ve a 
mind to sell him to you on your own terms.” 
He paused a moment, looking thoughtfully at 
a crack in the floor, as he stood b}^ the fire with 
his hands in his pockets. *‘Yes,” he said, at 
last, “you can have him for four dollars, if 
you’ll keep mum about us being here for one 
more day. You can leave the bear here till we 

go-” 

“ No ! No ! ” cried Keith, throwing his arms 
around the animal’s neck. “ He is ours now, 
and we must take him with us. We can hide 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 


59 


him away in the barn. It is so dark out-doors 
now that nobody will see us. It wouldn’t seem 
like he is really ours if we couldn’t take him 
with us.” 

After some grumbling the man consented, 
and pocketed the four dollars, first asking very 
particularly the exact spot in the barn where 
they expected to hide their huge pet. 

Unc’ Henry, coming up from the carriage^ 
house, through the twilight, thought he saw 
some one stealing along by the clump of cedars 
by the spring-house. “ Who’s prowlin’ roun’ 
dis yere premises ? ” he called. There was no 
answer, and, after peering intently through the 
dusk for a moment, the old darkey concluded 
that he must have been mistaken, and passed 
on. As soon as he was gone, the boys came 
out from behind the cedars, and crept up the 
snowy hillside. They were leading the bear 
between them. 

‘‘ We’ll put him away back in the hay-mow 
where he’ll be warm and comfortable to-night,” 
whispered Malcolm. <*Then in the morning 
we can tell everybody.” 

While they were busily scooping out a big 
hollow in the hay, they were startled by a 


60 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

rustling behind them. They looked into each 
other’s frightened faces, and then glanced 
around the dark barn in alarm. An old cap 
pushed up through the hay. Then a weak little 
cough betrayed Jonesy. He had followed them. 

‘‘ Sh ! ” he said, in a warning whisper. I’m 
afraid the boss will find out that I’m here. He 
started to the store for some tobacco as soon as 
you left. * He’s been wild fer some, but didn’t 
have no money. Don't you leave that bear 
out here to-nighty if you ever expect to see it 
again ! That wasn’t true what he told you. 
He never saw the bear till two months ago, 
and he sold it to you cheap because he’s a-goin’ 
to steal it back again to-night, and make off up 
the road with it. He went off a-grinnin’ over 
the slick way he’d fooled you, and I jes’ had to 
come and tell, ’cause you’ve been .so good 
to me. I’ll never forget the little kid’s givin’ 
me the coat off his own back, if I live to be a 
hundred. Now don’t blab on me, or the boss 
would nearly kill me.” 

'‘Is that man your father began Keith, 
but Jonesy, alarmed by some sudden noise, 
sprang to the door, and disappeared in the 
twilight. 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 6 1 

The boys looked at each other a moment, 
with surprise and indignation in their faces. 
There was a hurried consultation in the hay- 
mow. A few moments later the boys were 
smuggling their new pet into the house, and up 
the back stairs. They scarcely dared breathe 
until it was safe in their own room. 

All the time that they were dressing for the 
party, they were trying to decide where to put 
it for the night, so that neither the tramp nor 
the family could discover it. What Jonesy had 
told them about the man’s dishonest intention 
did not relieve them from their promise. They 
were amazed that any one could be so mean, 
and longed to tell their Aunt Allison all about 
it ; still, one of the conditions on which they 
had bought the bear was that they were to 
‘‘keep mum,” and they stuck strictly to that 
promise. 

By the time they were dressed, they had 
decided to put it in the blue room, a guest- 
chamber in the north wing, seldom used in 
winter, because it was so hard to heat. “ No- 
body will ever think of coming in here,” said 
Malcolm, “and it will be plenty warm for a 
bear if we turn on the furnace a little.” As he 


62 TWO LITfLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCK*. 


spoke, he was tying the bear’s rope around a 
leg of the big, high-posted bed. 

“ Won’t Ginger be surprised ? ” answered 



Keith. We’ll tell her that we have a valen- 
tine six feet long, and keep her guessing.” 

There was no time for teasing, however, as 
the first guest arrived while they were still 
in the blue room. 

<< I hate to go off and leave him in the dark,’' 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 63 

said Keith, with a final loving pat. ‘‘I guess 
he’ll not mind, though. Maybe he’ll think he 
is in the woods if I put this good-smelling pine 
pillow on the rug beside him.” 

“ Oh, boys,” called Virginia from the hall 
down-stairs. “ See what an enormous valentine 
pie Aunt Allison has made ! ” 

Looking over the banisters, the boys saw 
that a table had been drawn into the middle of 
the wide reception-hall, and on it sat the largest 
pie that they had ever seen. It was in a bright 
new tin pan, and its daintily browned crust 
would have made them hungry even if their 
appetites had not been sharpened by the cold 
and exercise of the afternoon. 

‘<What a queer place to serve pie,” said Mal- 
colm, in a disapproving undertone to his brother. 
“ Why don’t they have it in the dining-room ? 
It looks mighty good, but somehow, it doesn’t 
seem proper to have it stuck out here in the 
hall. Mamma would never do such a thing.” 

"‘Aw, it’s made of paper! She fooled us, 
sure, Malcolm,” called back Keith, who had 
run on ahead to look. It is only painted to 
look like a pie. But isn’t it a splendid imita* 
tion?” 


64 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Virginia, pleased to have caught them so 
cleverly, showed them the ends of twenty-four 
pieces of narrow ribbon, peeping from under 
the delicately brown top crust. “ The white 
ones are for the girls, and the red ones for the 
boys,” she explained. There is a valentine 
on the end of each one, and those on the red 
ribbons match the ones on the white. We’ll 
all pull at once, and the ones who have valen- 
tines alike will go out to dinner together.” 

The guests came promptly. They had been 
invited for half-past six, and dinner was to be 
served soon after that time. The last to arrive 
was the Little Colonel. She came in charge of 
an old coloured woman. Mom Beck, who had 
been her mother’s nurse as well as her own. 
The child was so hidden in her wraps when 
Mom Beck led her up-stairs, that no one could 
tell how she looked. The boys had been curi- 
ous to see her, ever since they had heard so 
many tales of her mischievous pranks. A few 
minutes later, when she appeared in the par- 
lours, there was a buzz of admiration. Maybe 
it was not so much for the soft light hair, the 
star-like beauty of her big dark eyes, or the 
delicate colour in her cheeks that made them as 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 


65 


pink as a wild rose, as it was for the valentine 
costume she wore. It was of dainty white 
tulle, sprinkled with hundreds of tiny red vel- 
vet hearts, and there was a coronet of glittering 
rhinestones on her long fair hair. 

‘‘ The Queen of Hearts,” announced Aunt 
Allison, leading her forward. ‘‘ You know ‘she 
made some tarts, upon a summer day,’ and 
now she shall open the valentine pie and see 
if it is as good as her Majesty’s.” 

The big music-box in the hall began playing 
one of its liveliest waltzes, the children gath' 
ered around the great pie, and twenty-four little 
hands reached out to grasp the floating ends of 
ribbon. 

“ Pull ! ” cried the little Queen of Hearts. 
The paper crust flew off, and twenty-four yards 
of ribbon, each with a valentine attached, flut- 
tered brightly through the air for an instant. 

“ Now match your verses,” cried her Majesty 
again, opening her own to read what was in it. 
There was much laughing and peeping over 
shoulders, and tangling of white and scarlet 
ribbons, while the gay music-box played on. 

In the midst of it Virginia beckoned to the 
Little Colonel. “ Come up-stairs with me for a 


66 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

minute, Lloyd,” she whispered, ^'and help me 
look for something. Aunt Allison has for- 
gotten where she put the box of arrows that 
we are to use in the archery contest after 
dinner. There is the prettiest prize for the 
one who hits the red heart in the centre of 
the target.” 

“ Oh, do you suppose you can hit it } ” 
asked Lloyd, as she and Virginia slipped their 
arms around each other, and went skipping up 
the stairs. 

Yes, indeed ! ” answered Virginia. I used 
to practise so much with my Indian bow and 
arrow out at the fort, that I could hit centre 
nearly every time. I am not going to shoot 
to-night. Aunt Allison thinks it wouldn’t be 
fair.” 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Vir- 
ginia went into her room to light a wax taper 
in one of the tall silver candlesticks on her 
dressing-table. I think that Aunt Allison 
must have left those arrows in the blue room,” 
she said, leading the way down the cross hall 
which went to the north wing. ** She made the 
pie in there this morning, and all the other 
things were there. Nobody comes over in 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 


67 


this part of the house much in winter, unless 
there happens to be a great deal of company.” 

The taper that ^ 

Virginia carried S 5, 

was the only 
light in that part 
of the house. 

When she 
reached the door 
of the blue room 
she turned to 
Lloyd. “ Hold 
the candle for me, 
please,” she said, while 
I look in the closet.” 

It was a pretty picture 
that the little Queen 
of Hearts ” made, as she 
stood in the doorway, 
with the tall silver can- 
dlestick held high in both 
hands. Her hair shone 
like gold in the candle- 
light, and her glittering 
crown flashed as if a 
circle of fairy fireflies had been caught in its 



68 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

soft meshes. Her dark eyes peered anxiously 
around the big shadowy room, lighted only by 
her flickering taper. 

Down-stairs, Malcolm and Keith were almost 
quarrelling about her. It began by Malcolm 
taking his brother aside and offering to trade 
valentines with him. 

** Why } ” asked Keith, suspiciously. 

“ ’Cause yours matches the Little Colonel’s, 
and I want to take her out to dinner,” ad- 
mitted Malcolm. “ She is the prettiest girl 
here.” 

But I don’t want to trade,” answered Keith. 
“ I want to take her myself.” 

“I’ll give you the pick of any six stamps in 
my album if you will.” 

“Don’t want your old stamps,” declared 
Keith, stoutly. “ I’d rather have the Little 
Colonel for my partner.” 

“ I think you might trade,” coaxed Malcolm. 
“ It’s mean not to when I’m the oldest. I’ll 
give you that Chinese puzzle you’ve been 
wanting so long if you will.” Keith shook his 
head. 

Just then a terrific scream sounded in the 
upper hall, followed by another that made every 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 69 

one down-stairs turn pale with fright. Two 
voices were uttering piercing shrieks, one after 
another, so loud and frantic that even the ser- 
vants in the back part of the house came run- 
ning. Miss Allison, thinking of the candle she 
had told Virginia to light, and remembering 
the thin, white dress the child wore, instantly 
thought she must have set herself afire. She 
ran into the hall, so frightened that she was 
trembling from head to foot. Before she could 
reach the staircase, Virginia came flying down 
the steps, white as a little ghost, and her eyes 
wide with terror. Throwing herself into her 
aunt’s outstretched arms, she began to sob out 
her story between great, trembling gasps. 

‘‘Oh, there’s an awful, awful wild beast in 
the blue room, nearly as tall as the ceiling ! It 
rose up and came after us out of the corner, 
and if I hadn’t slammed the door just in time, 
it would have eaten us up. I’m sure it would ! 
Oo-oo-oo ! It was so awful ! ” she wailed. 

“Why, Virginia,” exclaimed her aunt, dis- 
tressed to see her so terrified, “it must have 
been only a big shadow you saw. It isn’t 
possible for a wild beast to be in the blue room 
you know. Where is Lloyd ? ” 


70 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“She’s up heah, Miss Allison,” called Mom 
Beck’s voice. “She’s so skeered, I’se pow’ful 
’fraid she’s gwine to faint. They sut’nly is some- 
thing in that room, honey, deed they is. I kin 
heah it movin’ around now, switchin’ he’s tail 
an’ growlin’ ! ” 

Malcolm and Keith, with guilty faces, went 
dashing up the stairs, and the whole party fol- 
lowed them at a respectful distance. When they 
opened the door the room looked very big and 
shadowy, and the bear, roused from its nap, 
was standing on its hind legs beside the high- 
posted bed. The huge figure was certainly 
enough to frighten any one coming upon it 
unexpectedly in the dark, and when Miss Alli- 
son saw it she drew Virginia’s trembling hand 
into hers witK^ a sympathetic clasp. Before 
she could ask any questions, the boys began an 
excited explanation. It was some time before 
they could make their story understood. 

Their grandmother was horrified, and insisted 
on sending the animal away at once. “The 
idea of bringing such a dangerous creature into 
anyone’s house,” she exclaimed, “and, above all, 
of shutting him up in a bedroom ! We might 
have all been bitten, or hugged to death 1 


THE VALENTINE PARTY. 7 1 

“But, grandmother,'’ begged Malcolm, “he 
isn’t dangerous. Let me bring him into the 
light, and show you what a kind old pet he is.” 

There was a scattering to the other end of 
the hall as Malcolm came out, leading the bear, 
but the children gradually drew nearer as the 
great animal began its performances. Keith 
whistled and kept time with his feet in a funny 
little shuffling jig he had learned from Jonesy, 
and the bear obligingly went through all his 
tricks. He was used to being pulled out to 
perform whenever a crowd could be collected. 

Virginia forgot her fear of him when he stood 
up and presented arms like a real soldier, and 
even went up and patted him when the show 
was over, joining with the boys in begging that 
he might be allowed to stay in the house until 
morning. Mrs. MacIntyre was determined to 
send a man down to the cabin at once to 
investigate. She had a horror of tramps. But 
the boys begged her to wait until daylight for 
Jonesy’ s sake. 

“The man will beat him if he finds out that 
Jonesy warned us,” pleaded Keith. He was 
so earnest that the tears stood in his big, 
trustful eyes. 


72 TWO LITTLE. KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“This is spoiling the party, mother,” whis 
pered Miss Allison, “and dinner is waiting, 
ril be responsible for any harm that may be 
done if you will let the boys have their way 
this once.” 

There seemed no other way to settle it just 
then, so Eruin was allowed to go back to his 
rug in the blue room, and the door was securely 
locked. 

Keith took Lloyd down to dinner, and his 
grandmother heard him apologising all the 
way down for having frightened her. The 
little Queen of Hearts listened smilingly, but 
her colour did not come back all evening, until 
after the archery contest. It was when Mal- 
colm came up with the prize he had won, a tiny 
silver arrow, and pinned it in the knot of red 
ribbon on her shoulder. 

“Will you keep it to remember me by.?” he 
asked, bashfully. 

“ Of co’se ! ” she answered, with a smile that 
showed all her roguish dimples. “ Til keep it 
fo’evah and evah to remembah how neah I came 
to bein’ eaten up by yo’ bea’h.” 

“ It seems too bad for such a beautiful party 
to come to an end,” Sally Fairfax said when 



“‘WILL YOU KEEP IT TO REMEMBER ME BY?’” 




THE VALENTINE PARTY. 75 

the last merry game was played, the last story 
told, and it was time to go home. ‘‘ But there’s 
one comfort,” she added, gathering all her gay 
valentines together, ‘‘ there needn’t be any 
end to the remembering of it. I’ve had such 
a good time, Mrs. MacIntyre.” 

It was so late when the last carriage rolled 
down the avenue, bearing away the last smiling 
little guest, that the children were almost too 
sleepy to undress. It was not long until the 
last light was put out in every room, and a 
deep stillness settled over the entire house. 
One by one the lights went out in every home 
in the valley, and only the stars were left shin- 
ing, in the cold wintry sky. No, there was 
one lamp that still burned. It was in the 
little cottage where old Professor Heinrich sat 
bowed over his books. 


CHAPTER IV, 


/ 

A FIRE AND A PLAN. 

Some people said that old Johann Heinrich 
never slept, for no matter what hour of the 
night one passed his lonely little house, a lamp 
was always burning. He was a queer old Ger- 
man naturalist, living by himself in a cottage 
adjoining the MacIntyre place. He had been 
a professor in a large university until he grew 
too old to keep his position. Why he should 
have chosen Lloydsborough Valley as the place 
to settle for the remainder of his life, no one 
could tell. 

He kept kimself away from his neighbours, 
and spent so much time roaming around the 
woods by himself that people called him 
queer. They did not know that he had 
written two big books about the birds and 
insects he loved so well, or that he could tell 
them facts more wonderful than fairy tales 
76 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 7/ 

about these little wild creatures of the wood- 
land. 

To-night he had read later than usual, and 
his fire was nearly out. He was too poor to 
keep a servant, so when he found that the coal- 
hod was empty he had to go out to the kitchen 
to fill it himself. That is why he saw some- 
thing that happened soon after midnight, while 
everybody else in the valley was sound 
asleep. 

Over in the cabin by the spring-house where 
the boys had left the tramp and Jonesy, a puff 
of smoke went curling around the roof. Then 
a tongue of flame shot up through the cedars, 
and another and another until the sky was red 
with an angry glare. It lighted up the eastern 
window-panes of the servants’ cottage, but the 
inmates, tired from the unusual serving of the 
evening before, slept on. It shone full across 
the window of Virginia’s room, but she was 
dreaming of being chased by bears, and only 
turned uneasily in her sleep. 

The old professor, on his way to the kitchen, 
noticed that it seemed strangely light outside. 
He shuffled to the door and looked out. 

« Ach Himmel ! ” he exclaimed, excitedly. 


78 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“Somebody vil shust in his bed be burnt, if 
old Johann does not haste make ! ” 

Not waiting to close the door behind him, or 
even to catch up something to protect his old 
bald head from the intense cold of the winter 
night, he ran out across the garden. His shuffling 
feet, in their flapping old carpet slippers, forgot 
their rheumatism, and his shoulders dropped 
the weight of their seventy years. He ran like 
a boy across the meadow, through the gap in 
the fence, and down the hill to the cabin by the 
spring. 

All one side of it was in flames. The fire 
was curling around the. front door and bursting 
through the windows with fierce cracklings. 
Dashing frantically around to the back door, he 
threw himself against it, shouting to know if 
any one was within. A blinding rush of smoke 
was his only answer as he backed away from 
the overpowering heat, but something fell across 
the door-sill in a limp little heap. It was 
Jonesy. 

Dragging the child to a safe distance from 
the burning building, he ran back, fearing that 
some one else might be in danger, but this time 
the flames met him at the door, and it was 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


79 


impossible to go in. His hoarse shouting roused 
the servants, but by the time they reached the 
cabin the roof had fallen in, and all danger of 
the fire spreading to other buildings was over. 

While the professor was bending over Jonesy, 
trying to bring him back to consciousness. Miss 
Allison came running down the path. She had 
an eiderdown quilt wrapped around her over her 
dressing-gown. The shouts had awakened her, 
also, and she had slipped out as quietly as 
possible, not wishing to alarm her mother. 

** How did it happen ” she demanded, breath- 
lessly. “ Is the child badly burned ? Is any one 
else hurt ? Is the tramp in the cabin ? 

No one gave any answer to her rapid ques- 
tions. The old professor shook his head, but 
did not look up. He was bending over Jonesy, 
trying to restore him to consciousness. He 
seemed to know the right things to do for him, 
and in a little while the child opened his eyes 
and looked around wonderingly. In a few min- 
utes he was able to tell what he knew about the 
fire. 

It was not much, only a horrible recollection 
of being awakened by a feeling that he was 
choking in the thick smoke that filled the room ; 


So TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

of hearing the boss swear at him to be quick 
and follow him or he would be burned to death. 
Then there had been an awful moment of grop- 
ing through the blinding, choking smoke, trying 
to find a way out. The man sprang to a window 
and made his escape, but as the outside air 
/ushed in through the opening he left, it seemed 
to fan the smoke instantly into flame. 

Jonesy had struck out at the wall of fire with 
his Helpless little hands, and then, half-crazed 
by the scorching pain, dropped to the floor and 
crawled in the opposite direction, just as the 
professor burst open the door. 

The sight of the poor little blistered face 
brought the tears to Miss Allison’s eyes, and 
she called two of the coloured men, directing 
them to carry Jonesy to the house, and then go 
at once for a doctor. But the professor inter- 
fered, insisting that Jonesy should be taken to 
his house. He said that he knew how to pre- 
pare the cooling bandages that were needed, and 
that he would sit up all night to apply them. 
He could not sleep anyhow, he said, after such 
great excitement. 

** But I feel responsible for him,** urged Miss 
Allison. ‘‘ Since it happened on our place, and 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


8i 


my little nephews brought him here, it seems to 
me that we ought to have the care of him.” 

The professor waved her aside, lifting Jonesy’s 
head as tenderly as a nurse could have done, and 
motioned the coloured men to lift him up. 

No, no, fraulein,” he said. “ I have had 
eggsperience. It is besser the poor leedle 
knabe go mit me ! ” 

There was no opposing the old man’s masterful 
way. Miss Allison stepped aside for them to pass, 
calling after him her willingness to do the nurs- 
ing he had taken upon himself, and insisting that 
she would come early in the morning to help. 

Unc’ Henry was left to guard the ruins, lest 
some stray spark should be blown toward the 
other buildings. “ Dis yere ole niggah wa’n’t 
mistaken aftah all,” he muttered. “ Dee was 
somebody prowlin’ ’roun’ de premises yistiddy 
evenin’.” Then he searched the ground, all 
around the cabin, for footprints in the snow. 
He found some tracks presently, and followed 
them over the meadow in the starlight, across 
the road, and down the railroad track several 
rods. There they suddenly disappeared. The 
tramp had evidently walked on the rail some 
distance. If Unc’ Henry had gone quarter of 


S2 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

a mile farther up the track, he would have found 
those same sliding imprints on every other cross- 
tie, as if the man had taken long running leaps 
in his haste to get away. 

Jonesy stoutly denied that the man had set 
fire to the cabin. nearly froze to death 

that night,” he said, when questioned about it 
afterward, “and the boss piled on an awful big 
lot of wood just before he went to bed.” 

“Then what made him take to his heels so 
fast if he didn’t } ” some one asked. 

“I don’t know,” answered Jonesy. “He 
said that luck was always against him, and 
maybe he thought nobody would believe him 
if he did say that he didn’t do it.” 

Several days after that Malcolm found the 
tramp’s picture in the Courier-Journal. He 
was a noted criminal who had escaped from a 
Northern penitentiary some two months before, 
and had been arrested by the Louisville police. 
There was no mistaking him. That big, ugly 
scar branded him on cheek and forehead like 
another Cain. 

“And to think that that terrible man was 
harboured on my place ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Mac- 
Intyre when she heard of it. “And you boys 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


»3 

were down there in the cabin with him for 
hours ! Sat beside him and talked with him ! 
What will your mother say ? I feel as if you 
had been exposed to the smallpox, and I cannot 
be too thankful now that the boy who was 
with him was not brought here. He isn’t a 
fit companion for you. Not that the poor little 
unfortunate is to blame. He cannot help be- 
ing a child of the slums, and he must be put 
in an orphan asylum or a reform school at 
once. It is probably the only thing that can 
save him from growing up to be a criminal like 
the man who brought him here. I shall see 
what can be done about it, as soon as possible.” 

‘‘ A child of the slums ! ” Malcolm and Keith 
repeated the expression afterward, with only a 
vague idea of its meaning. It seemed to set 
poor Jonesy apart from themselves as some- 
thing unclean, — something that their happy, 
well-filled lives must not be allowed to touch. 

Maybe if Jonesy had been an attractive child, 
with a sensitive mouth, and big, appealing eyes, 
he might have found his way more easily into 
people’s hearts. But he was a lean, snub-nosed 
little fellow, with a freckled face and neglected 
hair. No one would ever find his cheek a 


84 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

tempting one to kiss, and no one would be 
moved, by any feeling save pity, to stoop and 
put affectionate arms around Jonesy. He was 
only a common little street gamin, as unlovely 
as he was unloved. 

“ What a blessing that there are such places 
as orphan asylums for children of that class,” said 
Mrs. MacIntyre, after one of her visits to him. 
“ I must make arrangements for him to be put 
into one as soon as he is able to be moved.” 

“ I think he will be very loath to leave the 
old professor,” answered Miss Allison. “ He has 
been so good to the child, amusing him by the 
hour with his microscopes and collections of in- 
sects, telling him those delightful old German 
folk-lore tales, and putting him to sleep every 
night to the music of his violin. What a child- 
lover he is, and what a delightful old man in 
every way ! I am glad we have discovered him.” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. MacIntyre ; “ and when this 
little tramp is sent away, I want the children to 
go there often. I asked him if he could not 
teach them this spring, at least make a beginning 
with .them in natural history, and he appeared 
much pleased. He is as poor as a church 
mouse, and would be very glad of the money.” 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


Ss 


‘‘That reminds me,” said Miss Allison, “he 
asked me if the boys could not come down to 
see Jonesy this afternoon, and bring the bear. 
He thought it would give the little fellow so 
much pleasure, and might help him to forget 
his suffering.” 

Mrs. MacIntyre hesitated. “I do not be- 
lieve their mother would like it,” she answered. 
“ Sydney is careful enough about their associ- 
ates, but Elise is doubly particular. You can 
imagine how much badness this child must 
know when you remember how he has been 
reared. He told me that his name is Jones 
Carter, and that he cannot remember ever hav- 
ing a father or a mother. I questioned him 
very closely this morning. He comes from the 
worst of the Chicago slums. He slept in the 
cellar of one of its poorest tenement houses, and 
lived in the gutters. He has a brother only a 
little older, who is a bootblack. On days when 
shines were plentiful they had something to 
eat, otherwise they starved or begged.” 

“ Poor little lamb,” murmured Miss Allison. 

“It was by the brother’s advice he came 
away with that tramp,” continued Mrs. MacIn- 
tyre. “ He had gotten possession of that 


86 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

trained bear in some way, and probably took 
a fancy to Jones because he could whistle and 
dance all sorts of jigs. He probably thought 
it would be a good thing to have a child with 
him to work on peoples’ sympathies. They 
walked all the way from Chicago to Lloyds- 
borough, Jones told me, excepting three days’ 
journey they made in a wagon. They have 
been two months on the road, and showed the 
bear in the country places they passed through. 
They avoided the large towns.” 

‘‘Think what a Christmas he must have 
had ! ” exclaimed Miss Allison. 

“ Christmas ! I doubt if he ever heard the 
word. His speech is something shocking; 
nothing but the slang of the streets, and so 
ungrammatical that I could scarcely under- 
stand him at times. No, I am very sure that 
neither Sydney nor Elise would want the boys 
to be with him.” 

“ But he is so little, mother, and so sick and 
pitiful looking,” pleaded Miss Allison. “ Surely 
he cannot know so very much badness or hurt 
the boys if they go down to cheer him up for 
a little while.” 

Notwithstanding Mrs. MacIntyre’s fears, she 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


87 


consented to the boys visiting Jonesy that 
afternoon. She could not resist the professor’s 
second appeal or the boys’ own urging. 

They took the bear with them, which Jonesy 
welcomed like a lost friend. They spent an 
interesting hour among the professor’s collec- 
tions, listening to his explanations in his funny 
broken English. Then they explored his cot- 
tage, much amused by his queer housekeeping, 
cracked nuts on the hearth, and roasted apples 
on a string in front of the fire. 

Jonesy did not seem to be cheered up by the 
visit as much as the professor had expected. 
Presently the old man left the room and Keith 
sat down on the side of the bed. 

‘‘What makes you so still, Jonesy.?” he 
asked. “ You haven’t said a word for the last 
half hour.” 

“ I was thinking about Barney,” he answered, 
keeping his face turned away. “ Barney is my 
brother, you know.” 

“ Yes, so grandmother said,” answered Keith. 
“ How big is he .? ” 

“ ’Bout as big as yourn.” There was a choke 
in Jonesy’ s voice now. “ Seein’ yourn put his 
arm across your shoulder and pullin’ your head 


88 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTVyCKY. 

back by one ear and pinchin’ you sort in fun like, 
made me think the way B arney uster do to me.’* 

Keith did not know what to say, so there was 
a long, awkward pause. 

“I’d never a-left him,” said Jonesy, “but the 
boss said it ’ud only be a little while and we’d 
make so much money showin’ the bear that I’d 
have a whole pile to take home. I could ride 
back on the cars and take a whole trunk full of 
nice things to Barney, — clothes, and candy, and 
a swell watch and chain, and a bustin’ beauty of 
a bike. Now the bear’s sold and the boss has 
run away, and I don’t know how I can get back 
to Barney. Him an me’s all each other’s got, 
and I want to see him so bad.” 

The little fellow’s lip quivered, and he put up 
one bandaged hand to wipe away the hot tears 
that would keep coming, in spite of his efforts 
not to make a baby of himself. There was 
something so pitiful in the gesture that Keith 
looked across at Malcolm and then patted the 
bedclothes with an affectionate little hand. 

“Never mind, Jonesy,” he said, “papa will 
be home in the spring and he’ll send you back 
to Barney.” But Jonesy never having known 
anything of fathers whose chief pleasure is in 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


89 


spending money to make little sons happy, was 
not comforted by that promise as much as 
Keith thought he ought to be. 

‘'But I won’t be here then,” he sobbed. 
“They’re goin’ to put me in a ’sylum, and I 
can’t get out for so long that maybe Barney wih 
be dead before we ever find each other again.” 



He was crying violently now. 

“ Who is going to put you in an asylum } ” 
asked Malcolm, lifting an end of the pillow 
under which Jonesy’s head had burrowed, to 
hide the grief that his eight-year-old manhood 
made him too proud to show. 

“An old lady with white hair what comes 
here every day. The professor said he would 


90 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

keep me if he wasn’t so old and hard up, and 
she said as how a ’sylum was the proper place 
for a child of the slums, and he said yes if they 
wasn’t nobody to care for ’em. But I’ve got 
somebody ! ” he cried. I’ve got Barney ! Oh, 
dont let them shut me up somewhere so I can’t 
never get back to Barney ! ” 

“They don’t shut you up when they send 
you to an asylum,” said Malcolm. “The one 
near here is a lovely big house, with acres of 
green grass around it, and orchards and vine- 
yards, and they are ever so good to the chil- 
dren, and give them plenty to eat and wear, 
and send them to school.” 

“Barney wouldn’t be there,” sobbed Jonesy, 
diving under the pillow again. “ I don’t want 
nothing but him.” 

“ Well, we’ll see what we can do,” said Mal- 
colm, as he heard the professor coming back. 
“ If we could only keep you here until spring, 
I am sure that papa would send you back all 
right. He’s always helping people that get 
into trouble.” 

Jonesy took his little snub nose out of the 
pillow as the professor came in, and looked 
around defiantly as if ready to fight the first 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


91 


one who dared to hint that he had been crying. 
The boys took their leave soon after, leading 
the bear back to his new quarters in the car- 
riage house, where they had made him a com- 
fortable den. Then they walked slowly up to 
the house, their arms thrown across each 
other’s shoulders. 

S’pose it was us,” said Keith, after walk- 
ing on a little way in silence. “S’pose that 
you and I were left of all the family, and didn’t 
have any friends in the world, and I was to 
get separated from you and couldn’t get 
back .? ” 

“That would be tough luck, for sure,” an- 
swered Malcolm. 

“Don’t you s’pose Jonesy feels as badly 
about it as we would ? ” asked Keith. 

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” said Malcolm, be- 
ginning to whistle. Keith joined in, and keep- 
ing step to the tune, like two soldiers, they 
marched on into the house. 

Virginia found them in the library, a little 
while later, sitting on the hearth-rug, tailor- 
fashion. They were still talking about Jonesy 
They could think of nothing else but the lone- 
liness of the little waif, and his pitiful appeal : 


92 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Oh, don’t let them shut me up where I can’t 
never get back to Barney.” 

‘‘Why don’t you write to your father.^” 
asked Virginia, when they had told her the 
story of their visit. 

Oh, it is so hard to explain things in a 
letter,” answered Malcolm, “and being off 
there, he’d say that grandmother and all the 
grown people certainly know best. But if he 
could see Jonesy, — how pitiful looking he is, 
and hear him crying to go back to his brother, 
I know he’d feel the way we do about it.” 

“ I called the professor out in the hall, and 
told him so,” said Keith, “and asked him if he 
couldn’t adopt Jonesy, or something, until papa 
comes home. But he said that he is too poor. 
He has only a few dollars a month to live on. 
I didn’t mind asking him. He smiled in that 
big, kind way he always does. He said Jonesy 
was lots of company, and he would like to keep 
him this summer, if he could afford it, and 
let him get well and strong out here in the 
country.” 

“Then he would keep him till Uncle Sydney 
comes, if somebody would pay his board 
asked Virginia. 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


93 


“Yes,” said Malcolm, “but that doesn’t help 
matters much, for we children are the only 
ones who want him to stay, and our monthly 
allowances, all put together, wouldn’t be 
enough.” 

“We might earn the money ourselves,” sug- 
gested Virginia, after awhile, breaking a long 
silence. 

“ How .? ” demanded Malcolm. “ Now, Gin- 
ger, you know, as well as I do, there is no way 
for us to earn anything this time of year. You 
can’t pick fruit in the dead of winter, can you ? 
or pull weeds, or rake leaves ? What other 
way is there ? ” 

“We might go to every house in the valley, 
and exhibit the bear,” said Keith, “taking up 
a collection each time.” 

“Now you’ve made me think of it,” cried 
Virginia, excitedly. “I’ve thought of a good 
way. We’ll give Jonesy a benefit, like great 
singers have. The bear will be the star per- 
former, and we’ll all act, too, and sell the tick- 
ets, and have tableaux. I love to arrange 
tableaux. We were always having them out 
at the fort.” 

“ I bid to show off the bear,” cried Malcolm, 


94 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

entering into Virginia’s plan at once. ^‘May 
be ril learn something to recite, too.” 

“I’ll help print the tickets,” said Keith, 
“and go around selling them, and be in any- 
thing you want me to be. How many tableaux 
are you going to have. Ginger ? ” 

“ I can’t tell yet,” she answered, but a 
moment after she cried out, her eyes shining 
with pleasure, “Oh, I’ve thought of a lovely 
one. We can have the Little Colonel and the 
bear for ‘ Beauty and the Beast.’ ” 

Malcolm promptly turned a somersault on 
the rug, to express his approval, but came up 
with a grave face, saying, “I’ll bet that grand' 
mother will say we can’t have it.” 

“ Let’s get Aunt Allison on our side,” sug- 
gested Virginia. “ She’s up in her room now, 
painting a picture.” 

A little sigh of disappointment escaped Miss 
Allison’s lips, as she heard the rush of feet on 
the stairs. This was the first time that she had 
touched her brushes since the children’s com- 
ing, and she had hoped that this one after- 
noon would be free from interruption, when she 
heard them planning their afternoon’s occupa- 
tions at the lunch-table. They had come back 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 95 

before the little water-colour sketch ske was 
making was quite finished. 

There was no disappointment, however, in 
the bright face she turned toward them, and 
Virginia lost no time in beginning her story. 
She had been elected to tell it, but before it 
was done all three had had a part in the 
telling, and all three were waiting with wistful 
eyes for her answer. 

“ Well, what is it you want me to do ? ” she 
asked, finally. 

Oh, just be on our side ! ” they exclaimed, 
**and get grandmother to say yes. You see 
she doesn’t feel about Jonesy the way we do. 
She is willing to pay a great deal of money 
to have him taken off and cared for, but 
she says she doesn’t see hov/ grandchildren 
of hers can be so interested in a little tramp 
that comes from nobody knows where, and who 
will probably end his days in a penitentiary.’* 

Aunt Allison answered Malcolm’s last re- 
mark a little sternly. You must understand 
that it is only for your own good that she is 
opposed to Jonesy’s staying,” she said. “ There 
is nobody in ' the valley so generous and kind 
to the poor as your grandmother.” 


96 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

‘^Yes’m,” said Virginia, meekly, **hut you’ll 
ask her, won’t you please, auntie ? ” 

Miss Allison smiled at her persistence. ** Wait 
until I finish this,” she said. Then I’ll go 
down-stairs and put the matter before her, and 
report to you at dinner-time. Now are you 
satisfied ? ” 

*‘Yes,” they cried in chorus, you’re on our 
side. It’s all right now ! ” With a series of 
hearty hugs that left her almost breathless, 
they hurried away. 

When Miss Allison kept her promise she 
did not go to her mother with the children’s 
story of Jonesy, to move her to pity. She 
told her simply what they wanted, and then 
said, ** Mother, you know I have begun to teach 
the children the ‘Vision of Sir Launfal.’ Vir- 
ginia has learned every word of it, and the boys 
will soon know all but the preludes. There 
will never be a better chance than this for 
them to learn the lesson : 

‘“Not what we give, but what we share, 

For the gift without the giver is bare.’ 

“This would be a real sharing of themselves, 
all their time and best energies, for they will 


A FIRE AND A PLAN. 


97 


have to work hard to get up such an entertain- 
ment as this. It isn’t for Jonesy’s sake I ask 
it, but for the children’s own good.” 

The old lady looked thoughtfully into the fire 
a moment, and then said, Maybe you are right, 
Allison. I do want to keep them unspotted 
from a knowledge of the world’s evils, but I 
do not want to make them selfish. If this 
little beggar at the gate can teach them where 
to find the Holy Grail, through unselfish ser- 
vice to him, I do not want to stand in the way. 
Bless their little hearts, they may play Sir 
Launfal if they want to, and may they have 
as beautiful a vision as his I ” 


CHAPTER V. 


jonesy’s benefit. 

The Jonesy Benefit grew like Jack’s bean- 
stalk after Miss Allison took charge of it. 
There was less than a week in which to get 
ready, as the boys insisted on having it on the 
twenty-second of February, in honour of Wash- 
ington’s birthday ; but in that short time the 
childish show which Ginger had proposed grew 
into an entertainment so beautiful and elabo- 
rate that the neighbourhood talked of it for 
weeks after. 

Miss Allison spent one sleepless night, plan 
ning her campaign like a general, and next morn- 
ing had an army of helpers at work. Before 
the day was over she sent a letter to an old 
school friend of hers in the city. Miss Eleanor 
Bond, who had been her most intimate com- 
panion all through her school-days, and who 
still spent a part of every summer with her. 

“Dearest Nell,” the letter said, “come out 
9S 


JONESY'S BENEFIT. 


99 


to-morrow on the first afternoon train, if you 
love me. The children are getting up an en- 
tertainment for charity, which shall be duly 
explained on your arrival. No time now. I 
am superintending a force of carpenters in the 
college hall, where the entertainment is to take 
place, have two seamstresses in the house 
hurrying up costumes, and am helping mother 
scour the country for pretty children to put in 
the tableaux. 

“ The house is like an ant-hill in commotion, 
there is so much scurrying around ; but I know 
that is what you thoroughly enjoy. You shall 
have a finger in every pie if you will come out 
and help me to make this a never-to-be-forgotten 
occasion. 

want to make the old days of chivalry 
live again for Virginia and Malcolm and Keith. 
I am going back to King Arthur's Court for 
the flower of knighthood at his round table. 
Come and read for us between tableaux as 
only you can do. Be the interpreter of * Sir 
Launfal’s Vision’ and the * Idylls of the King.’ 
Give us the benefit of your talent for sweet 
charity’s sake, if not for the sake of * auld lang 
syne ’ and your devoted Allison.’* 


100 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“She’ll be here,” said Miss Allison, as she 
sealed the letter, nodding confidently to Mrs. 
Sherman, who had come over to help with 
Lloyd’s costume. “You remember Nell Bond, 
do you not ? She took the prize every year in 
elocution, and was always in demand at every 
entertainment. She is the most charming 
reader I ever heard, and as for story-telling — 
well, she’s better than the ‘Arabian Nights.’ 
You must let the Little Colonel come over 
every evening while she is here.” 

Miss Bond arrived the next day, and her 
visit was a time of continual delight to the 
children. They followed her wherever she 
went, until Mrs. MacIntyre laughin^y called 
her the ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin,’ and asked 
what she had done to bewitch them. 

The first night they gathered around the 
library-table, all as busy as bees. Keith and the 
Little Colonel were cutting tinsel into various 
lengths for Virginia to tie into fringe for a gay 
banner. Malcolm was gilding some old spurs, 
Mrs. MacIntyre sat stringing yards of wax 
beads, that gleamed softly in the lamplight like 
great rope of pearls, and Mrs. Sherman was 
painting the posters, which were to be put up 


. jonesy’s benefit. ioi 

in the post-office and depot as advertisements 
of the Jonesy Benefit. 

Miss Allison, who had been busy for hours 
with pasteboard and glue, tin-foil and scissors, 
held up the suit of mail which she had just 
finished. 

Isn’t that fine ! ” cried Malcolm. It looks 
exactly like some of the armour we saw in the 
Tower of London, doesn’t it, Keith } ” 

“ I’ve thought of a riddle ! ” exclaimed Vir- 
ginia. ‘‘Why is Aunt Allison’s head like 
Aladdin’s lamp } ” 

“ ’Cause it’s so bright.? ” ventured Malcolm. 

“ No ; because she has only to rub it, and 
everything she thinks of appears. I don’t see 
how it is possible to make so many beautiful 
things out of almost nothing.” 

Virginia looked admiringly around at all the 
pretty articles scattered over the room. A 
helmet with nodding white plumes lay on the 
piano. A queen’s robe trailed its royal ermine 
beside it. A sword with a jewelled hilt shone 
on the mantel, and a dozen dazzling shields 
were ranged in various places on the low book 
shelves. 

It was easy, in the midst of such surround 


102 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

ings, for the children to imagine themselves 
back in the days of King Arthur and his court, 
while Miss Bond sat there telling them such 
beautiful tales of its fair ladies and noble 
knights. Indeed, before the day of the enter- 
tainment came around they even found them- 
selves talking to each other in the quaint speech 
of that olden time. 

When Malcolm accidentally ran against his 
grandmother in the hall, instead of his usual, 

Oh, excuse me, grandmother,” it was Prithee 
grant me gracious pardon, fair dame. Not for 
a king’s ransom would I have thus jostled thee 
in such unseemly haste ! ” And Ginger, instead 
of giving Keith a slap when he teasingly penned 
her up in a corner, to make her divide some 
nuts with him, said, in a most tragic way, Un- 
hand me, villain, or by my troth thou’lt rue this 
ruffian conduct sore ! ” 

The library-table was strewn with books of 
old court life, and pictures of kings and queens 
whose costumes were to be copied in the tab- 
leaux. There was one book which Keith car- 
ried around with him until he had spelled out the 
whole beautiful tale. It was called “ In Kings* 
Houses,’* and was the story of the little Duke 



“THERE WAS ONE BOOK WHICH KEITH CARRIED AROUND 

WITH HIM.” 



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jonesy's benefit. 


105 


of Gloster who was made a knight in his boy- 
hood. And when Keith had read it himself, he 
took it down to the professor’s, and read it all 
over again to Jonesy. 

Think how grand he must have looked, 
Jonesy,” cried Keith, “and I am to be dressed 
exactly like him 'Cvhen I am knighted in the 
tableau.” Then he read the description 
again : 

“ ‘ A suit of white velvet embroidered with 
seed pearls, and literally blazing with jewels, — 
even the buttons being great brilliants. From 
his shoulder hung a cloak of azure blue velvet, 
the colour of the order, richly wrought with 
gold ; and around his neck he wore the magnifi- 
cent collar and jewel of St. George and the 
Dragon, that was the personal gift of his 
Majesty, the king.’ 

“Think how splendid it must have been, 
Jonesy, when the procession came in to the 
music of trumpets and bugles and silver flutes 
and hautboys ! Wouldn’t you like to have seen 
the heralds marching by, two by two, in cloth 
of gold, with an escort of the queen’s guard 
following ? All of England’s best and bravest 
were there, and they sat in the carven stalls in 


T06 two little knights of KENTUCKY. 

St. George’s Chapel, with their gorgeous ban. 
ners drooping over them. I saw that chapel, 
Jonesy, when we were in England, and I saw 
where the knights kept the ‘ vigil of arms ’ in 
the holy places, the night before they took their 
vows.” He picked up the book and read again : 
“ ‘ Fasting and praying and lonely watching by 
night in the great abbey where there are so 
many dead folk.’ 

“ Oh, don’t you wish you could have lived in 
those days, Jonesy, and have been a knight 

It was all Greek to Jonesy. The terms puz- 
zled him, but he enjoyed Keith’s description of 
the tournaments. 

Several evenings after that, Keith went down 
to the cottage dressed in the beautiful velvet 
costume of white and blue, ablaze with rhine- 
stones and glittering jewels. He had been 
wrapped in his Aunt Allison’s golf cape, and, 
as he threw it off, Jonesy’s eyes opened wider 
and wider with wonder. 

“Hi! You look like a whole jeweller’s 
window 1 ” he cried, dazzled by the gorgeous 
sight. The professor lighted another lamp, 
and Keith turned slowly around, to be admired 
on ev^e^y side like a pleased peacock. 


JONESY'S BENEFIT. lO/ 

** Of course it’s all only imitation,” he ex- 
plained, “but it will look just as good as the 
real thing behind the footlights. But you ought 
to see the stage when it’s fixed up to look like 
the Hall of the Shields, if you want to see 
glitter. It’s be-j///-tiful ! Like the one at 
Camelot, you know.” 

But Jonesy did not know, and Keith had to 
tell about that old castle at Camelot, as Miss 
Bond had told him. How that down the side 
of the long hall ran a treble range of shields, — 

“ And under every shield a knight was named, 

For such was Arthur’s custom in his hall. 

When some good knight had done one noble 
deed 

His arms were carven only, but if twain 
His arms were blazoned also, but if none 
The shield was blank and bare, without a sign, 
Saving the name beneath.” 

Keith had been greatly interested in watching 
the carpenters fix the stage so that it could be 
made to look like the Hall of the Shields in 
a very few moments, when the time for that 
tableau should come. He knew where every 
glittering shield was to hang, and every banner 
and battle-axe. 


I08 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

How do you suppose those knights felt,*^ 
he said to Jonesy, *^who saw their shields 
hanging there year after year, blank and bare, 
because they had never done even one noble 
deed ? They must have been dreadfully ashamed 
when the king walked by and read their names 
underneath, and then looked up at the shields 
and saw nothing emblazoned on them or even 
carved. Seems to me that I would have done 
something to have made me worthy of that 
honour if I had died for it ! ** 

Something, — it may have been the soft, rich 
colour of the jewel-broidered velvet the boy 
wore, or maybe the flush that rose to his cheeks 
at the thrill of such noble thoughts, — some- 
thing had brought an unusual beauty into his 
face. As he stood there, with head held high, 
his dark eyes flashing, his face glowing, and in 
that princely dress of a bygone day, he looked 
every inch a nobleman. There was something 
so pure and sweet, too, in the expression of 
his upturned face that the light upon it 
seemed to touch it into an almost unearthly 
fairness. 

The professor, who had been watching him 
with a tender smile on his rugged old face, drew 


jonesy’s benefit. 109 

the child toward him, and brushed the hair back 
on his forehead. 

“ Ach, liebchen,” he said, in his queer broken 
speech, *‘thy shield will never be blank and 
bare. Already thou hast blazoned it with the 
beauty of a noble purpose, and like Galahad, 
thou too shalt find the Grail.” 

It was Keith's turn to be puzzled, but he did 
not like to ask for an explanation ; there was 
something so solemn in the way the old man 
put his hand on his head as he spoke, almost as 
if he were bestowing a blessing. Besides, it 
was time to go to the rehearsal at the college. 
One of the servants had come to stay with 
Jonesy while the professor went over to prac- 
tise on his violin. He was to play behind the 
scenes, a soft, low accompaniment to Miss 
Bond’s reading. 

By eight o’clock, the night of the Benefit, 
every seat in the house was full. “ That’s jolly 
for Jonesy,” exclaimed Malcolm, peeping out 
from behind the curtain. “We counted up 
that ten cents a ticket would make enough, if 
they were all sold, to pay his board till papa 
comes home, and buy him all the new clothes 
he needs, too. Now every ticket is sold.” 


no TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 


“ Hurry up, Malcolm,” called Keith. We are 
first on the programme, and it is time to begin.” 
There was a great bustle behind the scenes 



for a few minutes, and then “ Beauty and the 
Beast” was announced. When the Little 
Colonel came on the stage leading the great 
bear, such a cheering and clapping began that 



jonesy's benefit. 


Ill 


they both looked around, half frightened ; but 
the boys followed immediately and the Little 
Colonel, dressed as a flower girl, danced out 
to meet Keith, who came in clicking his cas- 
tanets in time to Malcolm’s whistling. The 
bear was made to go through all his tricks and 
his soldier drill. 

The children in the audience stood on tip^ 
toe in their eagerness to see the great animal 
perform, and were so wild in their applause 
that the boys begged to be allowed to take it 
in front of the curtain every time during the 
evening when there was a long pause while 
some tableau was being prepared. 

Over the rustle of fluttering programmes and 
the hum of conversation that followed the first 
number, there fell presently the soft, swee^ 
notes of the professor’s violin, and Miss Bond’s 
musical voice began the story of the Vision of 
Sir Launfal. 

“ My golden spurs now bring to me. 

And bring to me my richest mail. 

For to-morrow I go over land and sea 
In search of the Holy Grail,” 

Here the curtains were drawn apart to show 
Malcolm seated on his pony as Sir Launfal, in 


1 12 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

his gilded mail that flamed so bright.” It was 
really a beautiful picture he made, and his 
grandmother, leaning forward, her face beam- 
ing with pride at the boy’s noble bearing, com- 
pared him with Arthur himself, ‘‘with lance 
in rest, from spur to plume a star of tourna- 
ment.” 

The next tableau showed him spurning the 
leper at his gate, and turning away in disgust 
from the beggar who “ seemed the one blot on 
the summer morn.” How Miss Bond’s voice 
rang out when “ the leper raised not the gold 
from the dust.” 

“ Better to me the poor man’s crust. 

That is no true alms which the hand can hold. 

He gives nothing but worthless gold 
Who gives from a sense cf duty.” 

In the next tableau it was “as an old bent 
man, worn-out and frail,” that Sir Launfal came 
back from his weary pilgrimage. He had not 
found the Holy Grail, but through his own 
sufferings he had learned pity for all pain and 
poverty. Once more he stood beside the leper 
at his castle gate, but this time he stooped to 
share with him his crust and wooden bowl of 
water. 


JONESYS BENEFIT. 


II3 

Then it happened on the stage just as was 
told in the poem. 

A light shone round about the place, and 
the crouching leper stood up. The old ragged 
mantle dropped off, and there in a long gar- 
ment almost dazzling in its whiteness, stood a 
figure — 

“ Shining and tall, and fair, and straight 
As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful gate.” 

They could not see the face, it was turned 
aside ; but the golden hair was like a glory, 
and the uplifted arms held something high in 
air that gleamed like a burnished star, as all 
the lights in the room were turned full upon 
it, for a little space. It was a golden cup. 
Then the voice again : 

“ In many climes without avail 
Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail. 
Behold it is here — this cup, which thou 
Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now. 

The holy supper is kept indeed 
In whatso we share with another’s need.” 

It vas an old story to most of the audience, 
worn threadbare by many readings, but with 
these living illustrations, and Miss Bond’s won- 


1 14 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

derful way of telling it, a new meaning crept 
into the well-known lines, that thrilled every 
listener. 

Could you understand that, Teddy ? asked 
old Judge h'airfax, patting his little grandson 
on the head. 

“ Course ! ” exclaimed seven-year-old Ted, 
who had followed his sister Sally to every 
rehearsal. 

‘‘When you give money to people just to 
get rid of ’em, and because you feel you’d 
ought to, it doesn’t count for anything. But 
if you divide something you’ve got, and would 
like to keep it all yourself, because you love to, 
and are sorry for ’em, then it counts a pile. 
Sir Launfal would have popped Jonesy into a 
’sylum when he first started out to find that 
gold cup, but when he came back he’d ’a’ 
worked like a horse getting up a benefit for 
him, and would have divided his own home 
with him, if he hadn’t been living at his grand- 
mother’s, and couldn’t.” 

An amused smile went around that part 
of the audience which overheard Ted’s shrilly 
given explanation. 

Pictures from the “ Idylls of the King ” fol- 


JONESY'S BENEFIT. 


II5 

lowed in rapid succession, and then came the 
prettiest of all, being the one in which Keith 
was made a knight. Virginia as queen, her 
short black hair covered by a powdered wig, 
and a long court-train sweeping behind her, 
stood touching his shoulder with the jewel- 
hilted sword, as he knelt at her feet. Lloyd 
and Sally Fairfax, Julia Ferris, and a dozen 
other pretty girls of the neighbourhood, helped 
to fill out the gay court scene, while all the 
boys that could be persuaded to take part 
were dressed up for heralds, guardsmen, pages, 
and knights. That tableau had to be shown 
four times, and then the audience kept on 
applauding as if they never intended to stop. 

The last one in this series of tableaux was 
the Hall of the Shields, as Keith had described 
it to Jonesy. A whole row of dazzling shields 
hung across the back of the stage, emblazoned 
with the arms of all the old knights whose 
names have come down to us in song or 
story. << Then for the first time that evening 
Miss Bond came out on the stage where she 
could be seen, and told the story of the death of 
King Arthur, and the passing away of the order 
1 of the Round Table. She told it so well that 


Il6 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 

little Ted Fairfax listened with his mouth open, 
seeming to see the great arm^ that rose out 
of the water to take back the king’s sword into 
the sea, from which it had been given him. 
An arm like a giant’s, ** clothed in white samite, 
mystic, wonderful, that caught the sword by 
the hilt, flourished it three times, and drew, it 
under the mere.” 

“True, ‘the old order changeth,’ ” said Miss 
Bond, “ but knighthood has no^ passed away. 
The flower of chivalry has blossomed anew in 
this new world, and America, too, has her 
Hall of the Shields.” 

Just a moment the curtains were drawn 
together, and then were widely parted again, 
as a chorus of voices rang out with the words: 

“ Hail, Columbia, happy land; 

Hail, ye heroes, heaven-born band ! ” 

In that moment, on every shield had been 
hung the pictured face of some well-known man 
who had helped to make his country a power 
among the nations ; presidents, patriots, philan- 
thropists, statesmen, inventors, and poets, — 
there they were, from army and navy, city and 
farm, college halls and humble cabins, — a long, 


JONESY'S BENEFIT. II7 

long line, and the first was Washington, and 
the last was the “ Hero of Manila.” 

Cheer after cheer went up, and it might have 
been well to have ended the programme there, 
but to satisfy the military-loving little Ginger, 
one more was added. 

There ought to be a Goddess of Liberty in 
it,” she insisted, “ because it is Washington’s 
birthday ; and if we had been doing it by 
ourselves we were going to have something in 
it about Cuba, on papa’s account.” 

So when the curtain rose the last time, it 
was on Sally Fairfax as a gorgeous Goddess of 
Liberty, conferring knighthood on two boys who 
stood for the Army and Navy, while a little dark- 
eyed girl knelt at their feet as Cuba, the dis- 
tressed maiden whom their chivalry had rescued. 

It was late when the performance closed ; 
later still when the children reached home that 
night, for Mrs. MacIntyre had determined to 
have a flash-light picture taken of them, and 
they had to wait until the photographer could 
send home for his camera. 

After they reached the house they could 
hardly be persuaded to undress. Virginia 
trailed up and down the halls in her royal 


Il8 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 


robes, Malcolm clanked around in his suit 
of mail and plumed helmet, and Keith 
stood before a mirror, admiring 
the handsome little figure it 
showed him. 

“ I hate to take it off,” 
j said, fingering the 
dazzling collar, ablaze 
with jewels. “ Td 
like to be a knight 
always, and wear a 
sword and spurs 
every day.” 

‘‘ So would I,” 
said Malcolm, be- 
ginning to yawn sleep- 
ily. ‘‘ I wish that 
Jonesy had been well 
enough to go to-night. 
Isn’t it splendid that 
the Benefit turned 
out so well ? Aunt 
Allison says there is plenty of money now to 
get Jonesy ’s clothes and pay his board till papa 
comes, and send him back to Barney, too, if 
papa thinks best and hasn’t any better plan.” 



JONESY'S BENEFIT. 


I 19 

“ I wish there’d been enough money to buy 
a nice little home out here in the country for 
him and Barney. Wouldn’t it have been lovely 
if there had a-been ? cried Keith. 

“ Well, I should say ! ” answered Malcolm. 
** Maybe we can have another benefit some day 
and make enough for that.’’ 

With this pleasant prospect before them, 
they laid aside their knightly garments, hoping 
to put them on again soon in Jonesy’s behalf, 
and talked about the home that m.ight be his 
some day, until they fell asleep. 

The flash-light pictures of the three children 
were all that the fondest grandmother could 
wish. As soon as they came, Keith carried his 
away to his room to admire in private. “ It is 
so pretty that it doesn’t seem it can be me,” he 
said, propping it up on the desk before him. 
** I wish that I could look that way always,” 

The next time that Miss Allison went into 
the room she found that Keith had written 
under it in his round, boyish hand, a quotation 
that had taken his fancy the first time he heard 
it. It was in one of Miss Bond’s stories, and he 
repeated it until he learned it : “ Z/ve pure. 


120 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Speak truthy right the wrongy follow the king; 
else wherefore born ? ” 

She asked him about it at bedtime. ** Why, 
that’s our motto,” he explained. Malcolm 
has it written under his, too. We’ve made up 
our minds to be a sort of knight, just as near 
the real thing as we can, you know, and that is 
what knights have to do : live pure, and speak 
truth, and right the wrong. We’ve always 
tried to do the first two, so that won’t be so 
hard. It’s righting the wrong that will be the 
tough job, but we have done it a little teenty, 
weenty bit for Jonesy, don’t you think, auntie "i 
It was all wrong that he should have such a 
hard time and be sent to an asylum away from 
Barney, when we have you all and everything 
nice. Malcolm and I have been talking it over. 
If we could do something to keep him from grow- 
ing up into a tramp like that awful man that 
brought him here, wouldn’t that be as good a 
deed as some that the real knights did } 
Wouldn’t that be serving our country, too, 
Aunt Allison, just a little speck ? ” He asked 
the question anxiously. Malcolm said nothing, 
but also waited with a wistful look for her 


answer. 


JONESY'S BENEFIT. 


I2I 


My dear little Sir Galahads,” she said, 
bending over to give each of the boys a good- 
night kiss, “ you will be ‘ really truly ’ knights if 
you can live up to the motto you have chosen. 
Heaven help you to be always as worthy of 
that title as you are to-night ! ” 

Keith held her a moment, with both arms 
around her neck. “What does that mean, 
auntie ? ” he asked. “ That is what the pro- 
fessor said, too, — Galahad.” 

“It is too late to explain to you to-night,” 
she said, “but I will tell you sometime soon, 
dear.” 

It was several days before she reminded them 
of that promise. Then she called them into her 
room and told them the story of Sir Galahad, 
the maiden knight, whose “ strength was as the 
.strength of ten because his heart was pure.” 
Then from a little morocco case, lined with 
purple velvet, she took two pins that she had 
bought in the city that morning. Each was a 
little white enamel flower with a tiny diamond 
in the centre, like a drop of dew. 

“ You can’t wear armour in these days,” she 
said, as she fastened one on the lapel of each 
boy’s coat, “ but this shall be the badge of your 


122 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

knighthood, — * wearing the white flower of a 
blameless life.’ The little pins will help you to 
remember, maybe, and will remind you that you 
are pledged to right the wrong wherever you 
find it, in little things as well as great.” 

It was a very earnest talk that followed. The 
boys came out from her room afterward, wear- 
ing the tiny white pins, and with a sweet seri- 
ousness in their faces. A noble purpose had 
been born in their hearts ; but alas for chivalry ! 
the first thing they did was to taunt Virginia 
with the fact that she could never be a knight 
because she was only a girl. 

I don’t care,” retorted Ginger, quickly. 

I can be a — a — patriot^ anyhow, and that’s 
lots better.” 

The boys laughed, and she flushed angrily. 

They ought to mean the same thing exactly 
in this day of the world,” said Miss Allison, 
coming up in time to hear the dispute that 
followed. Virginia, you shall have a badge, 
too. Run into my room and bring me that 
little jewelled flag on my cushion.” 

“ I think that this is the very prettiest piece 
of jewelry you have,” exclaimed Virginia, com- 
ing back with the pin. It was a little flag 


jonesy’s benefit. 


123 


whose red, white, and blue was made of tiny 
settings of garnets, sapphires, and diamonds. 

“You think that, because it is in the shape 
of a flag,” said Miss Allison, with an amused 
smile. “ Well, it shall be yours. See how 
well it can remind you of the boys’ knightly 
motto. There is the white for the first part, 
the ‘ live pure,’ and the * true blue ’ for the 
* speak truth,’ and then the red, — surely no 
soldier’s little daughter needs to be told what 
that stands for, when her own brave father has 
spilled part of his good red life-blood to ‘ right 
the wrong’ on the field of battle.” 

“ Oh, Aunt Allison ! ” was all that Virginia 
could gasp in her delight as she clasped the 
precious pin tightly in her hand. “ Is it mine ? 
For my very own ? ” 

“ For your very own, dear,” was the answer. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! ” cried Virginia, thanking 
her with a kiss. “ I’d a thousand times rather 
have it than^ one like the boys’. It means so 
much more ! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’s TWO RESCUES. 

Early in March, when the crocuses were 
beginning to bud under the dining-room win- 
dows, there came one of those rare spring 
days that seem to carry the warmth of summer 
in its sunshine. 

‘‘Exactly the kind of a day for a picnic,’* 
Virginia had said that morning, and when her 
grandmother objected, saying that the ground 
was still too damp, she suggested having it in 
the hay-barn. The boys piled the hay that was 
left from the winter’s supply up on one side of 
the great airy room, set wide the big double 
doors, and swept it clean. 

“ It is clean enough now for even grand- 
mother to eat in,” said Virginia, as she spread 
a cloth on the table Unc’ Henry had carried 
out for them. “ It’s good enough for a queen. 
Oh, I’ll tell you what let’s do. Let’s play that 
124 


THE LITTLE COLONEL'S TWO RESCUES. 1 25 

Malcolm and I are a wicked king and queen 
and Lloyd is a ‘ fair ladye ’ that we have shut 
up in a dungeon. This will be a banquet, and 
while we are eating Keith can be the knight 
who comes to her rescue and carries her off on 
his pony.” 

“ That’s all right,” consented Keith, except 
the eating part. How can we get our share of 
the picnic ? ” 

“We’ll save it for you,” answered Virginia, 
“ and you can eat it afterward.” 

“ Save enough for Jonesy, too,” said Keith. 
“ He shall be my page and help me rescue her. 
I’ll go and ask him now.” 

The month had made a great change in 
Jonesy. With plenty to eat, his thin little 
snub-nosed face grew plump and bright. There 
was a good-humoured twinkle in his sharp eyes, 
and being quick as a monkey at imitating the 
movements of those around him, Mrs. Mac- 
Intyre found nothing to criticise in his manners 
when Malcolm and Keith brought him into the 
house. Their pride in him was something amus- 
ing, and seeing that, after all, he was an inoffen- 
sive little fellowj, she made no more objections 
to their playing with him. 


126 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

By the time Keith was back again with 
Jonesy, the other guests had arrived, and the 
Little Colonel had been lowered into a deep 
feed-bin, in lieu of a dungeon. The banquet 
began in great state, but in a few moments was 
interrupted by a fearful shrieking from the 
depths of the bin. The fair ladye protested 
that she would not stay in her dungeon. 

There’s nasty big spidahs down heah ! 
she called. “ Ow ! One is crawlin’ on my neck 
now, and my face is all tangled up in cobwebs ! 
Get me out ! Get me out ! Quick, Gingah ! ” 

The king sprang up to go to her rescue, but 
was promptly motioned to his seat again by a 
warning shake of the other crowned head. 

Why, of course ! There’s always spiders in 
dungeons,” called the wicked queen, coolly help- 
ing herself to another piece of chicken. “ Be- 
sides, you should say ‘your Majesty’ when you 
are talking to me.” 

“ But there’s a mouse in heah, too,” she called 
back, in distress. “ Oo ! Oo ! It ran ovah my 
feet. If you don’t make them take me out of 
heah, Gingah Dudley, I’ll do something awful 
to you? Murdah! Murdah ! ” she yelled, pound- 
ing on the sides of the bin with both her 



<THE LITTLE COLONEL HAD BEEN LOWERED INTO A DEJ&P 

FEED-BIN.” 


I 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’'S TWO RESCUES. 1 29 

fists, and stamping her little foot in a furious 
rage. 

Seeing that Lloyd was really terrified, and 
fearing that her screams would bring some one 
from the house, the royal couple and their 
guests sprang to the rescue, nearly upsetting 
the banquet as they did so. The game would 
have been broken up then, when she was lifted 
out from the feed-bin, red and angry, if it had 
not been for the king’s great tact. He brushed 
the cobwebs from her face and hair, and even 
got down on his royal knees to ask her pardon. 

His polite coaxing finally had its effect on 
the little lady, and he persuaded her to climb 
a ladder into a loft just above them. Here on 
a pile of clean hay, beside an open window that 
looked across a peaceful meadow, her anger 
cooled. Towers were far more comfortable 
than dungeons, in her opinion, and when Mal- 
colm came up the ladder with a plateful of the 
choicest morsels of the feast, she began to 
enjoy her part of the play. Jonesy was sent 
to inform his knight of the change from dungeon 
to tower, and the banquet went merrily on. 

He found Keith waiting below the barn, with 
his pony tied to a fence. On the other side of 


130 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

the fence lay the railroad track, which skirtea 
the back of Mrs. MacIntyre’s place for over half 
a mile. 

‘‘ Do you see that hand-car ? ” asked Keith, 
pointing with his riding-whip to one on the 
track. “ The section boss let Malcolm and me 
ride up and down on it all afternoon one day 
this winter. Some workman left it on the 
switch while ago, and while you were up at the 
barn I got two darkeys to move it for me. They 
didn’t want to at first, but I knew that there’d 
be no train along for an hour, and told ’em so, 
and they finally did it for a dime apiece. As 
soon as I rescue Lloyd I’ll dash down here on 
my pony with her behind me. Then we’ll slip 
through the fence and get on the hand-car, and 
be out of sight around the curve before the rest 
get here. They won’t know where on earth 
we’ve gone, and it will be the best joke on them. 
It’s down grade all the way to the section-house, 
so I can push it easily enough by myself, but 
I’ll need your help coming back, maybe. S’pose 
you cut across lots to the section-house as soon 
as I start to the barn, and meet me there. It 
isn’t half as far that way, so you’ll get there 
as soon as we do.” 


THE LITTLE COLONEL'S TWO RESCUES. I3I 


All right,” said Jonesy. ‘‘ Tm your kid.” 
“You should say, ‘ ’Tis well. Sir Knight, I 
fly to do thy bidding,’ ” prompted Keith. 



Jonesy grinned. He could not enter into 
the spirit of the play as the others did. “ Aw, 
ril be on time,” he said ; then, as Keith untied 
his pony, started on a run across the fields. 

The Lady Lloyd had not finished her repast 


132 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

when her rescuer appeared, but she put the 
plate down on the hay to await her return, 
and obediently climbed down the ladder he 
placed for her. They reached the fence before 
the banqueters knew that she had escaped. 
Flinging the pony’s bridle over a fence-post, 
when they reached the edge of the field, the 
brave knight crawled through the fence and 
pulled Lloyd after him, tearing her dress, 
much to that dainty little lady’s extreme 
disgust. 

By the time the king and his guard were 
mounted in pursuit, on the other pony which 
stood in waiting, the runaways were in the 
hand-car. It moved slowly at first, although 
Keith was strong for his age, and his hardy 
little muscles were untiring. 

“ Isn’t it lovely ? ” cried Lloyd, as they moved 
faster and faster and swept around the curve. 
“ I wish we could go all the way to Louisville 
on this.” The warm March wind fanned hei* 
pink cheeks, and blew her soft light hair into 
her eyes. 

Jonesy was waiting at the section-house, and 
waved his cap as they passed. We’re going 
on, around the next bend,” shouted Keith, as 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S TWO RESCUES. 1 33 

they passed him. Whoop-la ! this is fine, and 
not a bit hard to work ! ” 

“ What will the wicked queen think when 
she can’t find us } ” asked Lloyd, laughing 
happily, as they sped on down the track. 

‘‘ She’ll think that I am a magician and have 
spirited you away,” said Keith. 

‘‘Then if you are a magician you ought to 
change her into a nasty black spidah, to pay 
her back fo’ shuttin’ me up with them ! ” Lloyd 
was delighted with this new play. For the 
time it seemed as if she really were escaping 
from a castle prison. Faster and faster they 
went. Jonesy, who had followed them to the 
second curve, stood watching them with wistful 
eyes, wishing he could be with them. They 
passed the depot, and then the hand-car seemed 
to grow smaller and smaller as it rolled away, 
until it was only a moving speck in the distance. 
Then he turned and walked back to the sec- 
tion-house. 

“ I s’pect we’ve gone about far enough,” said 
Keith, after awhile. “We’d better turn around 
now and go back, or the picnic will all be over 
before we get our share. Let’s wait here a 
minute till I rest my arms, and then we’ll start.” 


134 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

The place where they had stopped was the 
loneliest part of the track that could be found 
in miles, on either side. It was in the midst 
of a thick beech woods, and the twitter of a 
bird, now and then, was the only sound in all 
the deep stillness. 

“ What lovely green moss on that bank ! ” 
cried the Little Colonel. Wouldn’t it make 
a beautiful carpet for our playhouse down by 
the old mill ? ” 

'‘I’ll get you some,” said Keith, gallantly 
springing from the car and clambering up the 
bank. Taking out his knife, he began to cut 
great squares of the velvety green moss, and 
pile it up to carry back to the hand-car. 

Meanwhile Jonesy waited at the section- 
house, digging his heels into the cinders that 
lined the track, and looking impatiently down 
the road. Presently the section boss came 
limping along painfully, and sat down on the 
bank in the warm spring sunshine. He had 
dropped a piece of heavy machinery on his 
foot, the week before, and was only able to 
hobble short distances. 

Everybody in the Valley was interested in 
Jonesy since the fire and the Benefit had made 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S TWO RESCUES. I35 

him so well known, and the man was glad of 
this opportunity to satisfy his curiosity about 
the boy. Jonesy, with all the fearlessness of 
a little street gamin brought up in a big city, 
answered him fearlessly, even saucily at times, 
much to the man’s amusement. 

“ So you want to get a job around here, do 
you } ” said the man, presently, with a grin. 
“ Maybe I can give you one. Know anything 
about railroadin’ ? ” 

** Heaps,” answered Jonesy. “ Well, I’d 
ought to, seein’ as I’ve lived next door to the 
engine yards all my life, and spent my time 
dodgin’ the cop on watch there, when I was 
tryin’ to steal rides on freight-cars and such.” 

Is that what you’re hangin’ around here 
now for.J*” asked the man, with a good-natured 
twinkle in his eyes. 

‘‘ Nope ! I’m waiting for that MacIntyre kid 
to come back this way. He went down the 
track a bit ago on a hand-car, playing rescue 
a princess with one of the girls at the picnic.” 

The section boss sprang up with an exclama- 
tion of alarm. “ How far’s he gone } ” he asked. 
“ There’s a special due to pass here in a few 
minutes.” 


136 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

Even while he spoke there sounded far away 
in the distance, so far that it was like only a 
faint echo, the whistle of an approaching loco- 
motive. The man hobbled down the track a 
yard or so and stopped. ‘‘What do you sup- 
pose they’ll do ? ” he asked. “ There are so many 
bends in this road, the train may come right 
on to ’em before the engineer sees ’em. S’pose 
they’ll jump off, or turn and try to come 
back .? ” 

Jonesy glanced around wildly a second, and 
then sprang forward toward the man. 

“ Give me the switch-key ! ” he cried, in a high 
voice, shrill with excitement. “You can’t run, 
but I can. Give me the switch-key ! ” Per- 
plexed by the sudden turn of affairs and the 
little fellow’s commanding tone, the man took 
the key from his pocket. He realised his own 
helplessness to do anything, and there was 
something in Jonesy ’s manner that inspired con- 
fidence. He felt that the child’s quick wit had 
grasped the situation and formed some sensible 
plan of action. 

Again the whistle sounded in the distance, 
and, snatching the key, Jonesy was off down the 
track like an arrow. The section boss, leaning 


THE LITTLE COLONEL^S TWO RESCUES. 1 37 

heavily on his cane, limped after him as fast as 
he could. 

Keith and the Little Colonel, having gathered 
the moss and started back home, were rolling 
leisurely along, still talking of magicians and 
their ilk. 

** What if we should meet a dragon } ” cried 
the Little Colonel. ‘‘A dragon with a scaly 
green tail, and red eyes and a fiery tongue. 
What would you do then ? ” 

I’d say, ‘ Whac ! Ho ! Thou monster ! * 
and cleave him in twain with my good broad- 
sword, and when he saw its shining blade smite 
through the air he’d just curl up and die.” 

Keith looked back to smile at the bright 
laughing face beside him. Then he caught 
sight of something over his shoulder that made 
him pause. ‘‘ Oh, look ! ” he cried, pointing over 
the tree-tops behind them. A little puff of 
smoke, rising up in the distance, trailed abng 
the sky like a long banner. At the same in 
stant, out of the smoke, sounded the whistle 
of an approaching engine. The track behind 
them had so many turns, he could not judge 
of their distance from it, and for an instant 
stopped working the handle bar up and dowiv 


138 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

too thoroughly frightened to know what to da 
An older child might have acted differently; 
might have jumped from the hand -car and left 
it to be run into by the approaching train, or 
have hurried back around the bend to flag the 
engine. But Keith had only one idea left : that 
was to keep ahead of the train as long as possi- 
ble. It seemed so far away he thought they 
could surely reach the depot before it caught up 
with them, and his sturdy little arms bent to the 
task. 

For a moment there was a real pleasure in 
the exertion. He felt with an excited thrill 
that he was really running away with the Little 
Colonel, and rescuing her from a pursuing dan- 
ger. Suddenly the whistle sounded again, and 
this time it seemed so close behind them that 
the Little Colonel gave a terrified glance over 
her shoulder and then screamed at the sight of 
the great snorting monster, breathing out fire 
and smoke, worse than any scaly-tailed dragon 
that she had ever imagined. It was far down 
the track but they could hear its terrible rumble 
as it rushed over a trestle, and the singing of 
the wires overhead. 

Keith was straining every muscle now, but it 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’s TWO RESCUES. 1 39 

was JlKe running in a nightmare. His arms 
moved up and down at a furious speed, but it 
seemed to him that the hand-car was glued to 
one spot. It seemed, too, that it had been 
hours since they first discovered that the engine 
was after them, and he felt that he would 
soon be too exhausted to move another 
stroke. Would the depot never never come in 
sight ? 

Just then they shot around the curve and 
caught sight of Jonesy at the depot switch, 
wildly beckoning with his cap and shouting for 
them to come on. At that sight, with one 
supreme effort Keith put his fast-failing strength 
to the test, and sent the hand-car rolling for- 
ward faster than ever. It shot past the switch 
that Jonesy had unlocked and off to the side- 
track, just as the train bore down upon them 
around the last bend. 

There was barely time for Jonesy to set the 
switch again before it thundered on along 
the main track past the little depot. Being a 
special, it did not stop. As it went shrieking 
by, the engineer cast a curious glance at a hand- 
car on the side-track. A little girl sat on it, 
a pretty golden-haired child with dark eyes big 


140 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKi^ 

with fright, and her face as white as her dress. 
He wondered what was the matter. 

For a moment after the shrieking train 
whizzed by everything seemed deathly still. 
Keith sat leaning against the embankment, 
white and limp from exhaustion and the excite- 
ment of his close escape. Jonesy was panting 
and wiping the perspiration from his red face, 
for he had run like a deer to reach the switch 
in time. 

“ I couldn’t have held out a minute longer,” 
said Keith, presently. ** My arms felt like they 
had gone to sleep, and I was just ready to give 
up when I caught sight of you. That seemed 
to give me strength to go on, when I saw what 
you were at and that it would only be a little 
farther to go before we would be safe. How 
did you happen to be at the switch, and know 
how to set it ” 

H ain’t lived all my life around engine yards 
fer nothin’,” answered Jonesy. ‘‘Why didn’t 
you jump off and flag the train ? ” 

“I was so taken by surprise I didn’t think 
of that,” answered Keith. “The only thing I 
knew was that we had to keep ahead of it as 
long as possible. You’ve saved my life, Jones 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S TWO RESCUES. I4J 

Carter, and I’ll never forget it, no matter what 
comes.” 

“I’ve been rescued twice to-day,” said the 
Cittle Colonel, taking a deep breath as she 
began to recover from her fright. “Jonesy 
ought to be a knight, too.” 

“ That’s so ! ” exclaimed Keith, springing to 
his feet. “ Come on and let’s go back to the 
barn. We’ll tell our adventures, and then 
we’ll go through the ceremony of making Jonesy 
a Sir Something or other. He’s certainly won 
his spurs.” 

“ Coin’ back on the hand-car ” asked Jonesy. 

“Not much,” answered Keith, with a sickly 
sort of smile. “ Somehow such fast travelling 
doesn’t seem to agree with a fellow. Walking 
is good enough for me.” 

“ Me too ! ” cried the Little Colonel, tying on 
her white sunbonnet. “ But the first part of it 
was lovely, — just like flyin’.” 

Jonesy ran back to give the man his key, and 
was kept answering questions so long that he 
did not catch up with the other children unt^ 
they were in sight of the barn. 

“ After all,” said Keith, as the three trudged 
along together, “ maybe we’d better not tell 


142 two LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

how near we came to being run over. Grand- 
mother and Aunt Allison would be dreadfully 
worried if they should hear of it. They are 
always worrying for fear something will happen 
to us.” 

*‘Mothah would be wildt' exclaimed the 
Little Colonel, “ if she knew I had been in any 
dangah. Maybe she wouldn’t let me out of her 
sight again to play all summah.” 

Then let’s don’t tell for a long, long time,” 
proposed Keith. It’ll be our secret, just for 
us three.” 

‘‘ All right,” the others agreed. They dropped 
the subject then, for the barn was just ahead 
of them, and the gay picnickers came running 
out, demanding to know where they had been 
so long. 

The Little Colonel often spoke of her expe- 
rience afterward to the two boys, however, and 
in Keith’s day-dreams a home for Jonesy began 
to crowd out all other hopes and plans. 


CHAPTER VII, 

A GAME OF INDIAN. 

Keith was stiff for a week after his race on 
the hand-car, but did his groaning in private. 
He knew what a commotion would be raised if 
the matter came to his grandmother’s ears. 
She had lived all winter in constant dread of 
accidents. Malcolm had been carried home 
twice in an unconscious state, once from hav- 
ing been thrown from his bicycle, and once 
from falling through a trap-door in the barn. 
Keith had broken through the ice on the pond, 
sprained his wrist while coasting, and walked 
in half a dozen times with the blood streaming 
from some wound on his head or face. 

Virginia had never been hurt, but her hair- 
breadth escapes would have filled a volume. 
An amusing one was the time she lassoed a 
young calf, Indian fashion, to show the boys 


143 


144 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

how it should be done. Its angry mother was 
in the next lot, but Virginia felt perfectly safe 
as she swung her lariat and dragged the bleating 
calf around the barn-yard. She did not stop to 
consider that if a cow with lofty ambitions had 
once jumped over the moon, one which saw its 
calf in danger might easily leap a low hedge. 
Malcolm’s warning shout came just in time to 
save her from being gored by the angry animal, 
who charged at her with lowered horns. She 
sprang up the ladder leading to the corn-crib 
window, where she was safe, but she had to hang 
there until Unc’ Henry could be called to the 
rescue. 

It was with many misgivings that Mrs. Mac- 
Intyre and Miss Allison started to the city one 
morning in April. It was the first time since 
the children’s coming that they had both gone 
away at once, and nothing but urgent business 
would have made them consent to go. 

The children promised at least a dozen things. 
They would keep away from the barn, the live 
stock, the railroad, the p6nds, and the cisterns. 
They would not ride their wheels, climb trees, 
nor go off the MacIntyre premises, and they 
would keep a sharp Ibbkout for snakes and 


F 





VIRGINIA AND THE CALF. 




A GAME OF INDIAN. 1 47 

poison ivy, in case they went into the woods for 
wild flowers. 

Seems to me there’s mighty little left that a 
fellow can do,” said Keith, when the long list 
was completed. 

“ Oh, the time will soon pass,” said his grand- 
mother, who was preparing to take the eleven 
o’clock train. It will soon be lunch-time. 
Then this is the day for you each to write your 
weekly letters to your mother, and it is so 
pretty in the woods now that I am sure you 
will enjoy looking for violets.” 

Time did pass quickly, as their grandmother 
had said it would, until the middle of the after, 
noon. Then Virginia began to wish for some- 
thing more amusing than the quiet guessing 
games they had been playing in the library. 
The boys each picked up a book, and she 
strolled off up-stairs, in search of a livelier 
occupation. 

In a few minutes she came down, looking like 
a second Pocahontas in her Indian suit, with her 
bow and arrows slung over her shoulder. 

“ I am going down to the woods to practise 
shooting,” she announced, as she stopped to 
look in at the door. 


14^ TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

«Oh, wait just a minute!” begged Mai- 
colm, throwing down his book. ** Let’s all play 
Indian this afternoon. We’ll rig up, too, and 
build a wigwam down by the spring rock, and 
make a fire, — grandmother didn’t say we 
couldn’t make a fire ; that’s about the only 
thing she forgot to tell us not to do.” 

“ You can come on when you get ready,” 
answered Virginia. “I’m going now, because 
it is getting late, but you’ll find me near the 
spring when you come. Just yell.” 

The boys could not hope to rival Virginia’s 
Indian costume, but no wilder-looking little 
savages ever uttered a war-whoop than the two 
which presently dashed into the still April 
woods. 

Malcolm had ripped some variegated fringe 
from a table-cover to pin down the sides of his 
leather leggins. He had borrowed a Roman 
blanket from Aunt Allison’s couch to pin around 
his shoulders, and emptied several tubes of her 
most expensive paints to streak his face with 
hideous stripes and daubs. A row of feathers 
from the dust-brush was fastened around his 
forehead by a broad band, and a hatchet from 
the woodshed provided him with a tomahawk. 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 1 49 

Keith had no time to arrange feathers. He 
had taken off his flannels in order to put on an 
old striped bathing-suit, which he had found 
in the attic and stored away, intending to use it 
for swimming in the pond when the weather 
should grow warm enough. It had no sleeves, 
and the short trousers had shrunk until they 
did not half-way reach his knees. Its red and 
white stripes had faded and the colour run until 
the whole was a dingy “ crushed strawberry ” 
shade. As Malcolm had emptied all the tubes 
of red paint in his Aunt Allison’s box, Keith 
had to content himself with some other colour. 
He chose the different shades of green, squeez- 
ing the paint out on his plump little legs and 
arms, and rubbing it around with his fore finger 
until he was encircled with as many stripes as a 
zebra. Although the day was warm for the 
early part of April, the sudden change from his 
customary clothes and spring flannels to noth- 
ing but the airy bathing suit and war-paint 
made him a trifle chilly; so he completed his 
costume by putting on. a pair of scarlet bed- 
room slippers, edged with dark fur. 

With .the dropping of their civilised clothing, 
the boys seemed to have dropped all recollec- 


150 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

tions of their professed knighthood, and acted 
like the little savages they looked. 

We’re going to shoot with your things 
awhile, Ginger,” shouted Keith, coming sud- 
denly upon her with a whoop, and snatching 
her bow out of her hands. ‘‘You are the 
squaw, so you have to do all the work. Get 
down there now behind that rock and make a 
fire, while we go out and kill a deer. You 
must build a wigwam, too, by the time we get 
back. Hear me ? I’m a big chief ! ‘ I am 

Famine — Buckadawin ! ’ and I’ll make a living 
skeleton of you if you don’t hustle.” 

Virginia was furious. “ I’ll not be a squaw ! ” 
she cried. “ And I’ll not build a fire or do any- 
thing else if you talk so rudely. If you don’t 
give me back my bow and let me be a chief, 
too. I’ll — I’ll get even with you, sir, in a way 
you won’t like I have short hair, and my 
clothes are more Indian than yours, and I can 
shoot better than either of you, anyhow! So 
there ! Give me my bow.” 

“What will you do if I won’t said Keith, 
teasingly, holding it behind him. 

“ I’ll go up to the barn and get a rope, and 
lasso you like I did that calf, and drag you all 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


151 

over the place ! ” cried Virginia, her eyes shin- 
ing with fierce determination. 

‘‘ She means it, Keith,” said Malcolm. “ She’ll 
do it sure, if you don’t stop teasing. Oh, give 



it to her and come along, or it will be dark 
before we begin to play.” 

Matters went on more smoothly after Mai* 
colm’s efforts at peacemaking, and when it was 


152 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

decided that Ginger could be a brave, too, in« 
stead of a squaw, they were soon playing 
together as pleasantly as if they had found the 
happy hunting grounds. The short afternoon 
waned fast, and the shadows were growing deep 
when they reached the last part of the game. 
Ginger had been taken prisoner, and they were 
tying her to a tree, with her hands bound 
securely behind her back. She rather enjoyed 
this part of it, for she intended to show them 
how brave she could be. 

‘‘Now we’ll sit around the council fire and 
decide how to torture her,” said Malcolm, when 
the captive was_ securely tied. But the fire was 
out and they had no matches. The lot fell on 
Malcolm to run up to the house and get some. 

“ A fire would feel good,” said Keith, looking 
around with a shiver as he seated himself on a 
log near Ginger. The sun was low in the west, 
and very little of its light and warmth found its 
way into the woods where the children were 
playing. 

“It makes me think of Hiawatha,” said 
Ginger, looking down at several long streaks of 
golden light which lay across the ground at her 
feet. “Don’t you remember how it goes? 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


153 


*And the long and level sunbeams shot their 
spears into the forest, breaking through its 
shield of shadow.’ Isn’t that pretty } I love 
Hiawatha. I am going to learn pages and pages 
of it some day. I know all that part about 
Minnehaha now.” 

** Say it while we are waiting,” said Keith, 
pulling his short trousers down as far as possi- 
ble, and wishing that he had sleeves, or else that 
the paint were thicker on his chilly arms. 

** All right,” began Virginia. 

“ ‘ Oh the long and dreary winter I 
Oh the cold and cruel winter ! 

Ever thicker, thicker, thicker 
Froze the ice on lake and river.’ ” 

«Ugh! Don’t!” interrupted Keith, with a 
shiver. “ It makes my teeth chatter, talking 
about such cold things I ” 

Just then a shout came ringing down the hill, 
<< Oh, Keith I Come here a minute I Quick ! ” 

** What do you wa-ant ? ” yelled Keith, in 
return. 

** Come up here ! Quick ! Hurry up I ” '' 

** What do you s’pose can be the matter ? ” 
exclaimed Keith, scrambling to his feet. 
« Maybe the bear has got loose and run away.” 


154 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

‘‘ Come and untie me first,” said Virginia, 
‘‘ and I’ll go, too.” Keith gave several quick tugs 
at the many knotted string which bound her, 
but could not loosen it. Again the call came, 
impatient and sharp, Keith ! Oh, Keith ! ” 

“Oh, I can’t loosen it a bit,” said Keith. 
“You’ll have to wait till Malcolm comes with 
his knife. We’ll be back in just a minute. I’ll 
go and see what’s the matter.” 

“ Be sure that you don’t stay ! ” screamed 
Ginger, as the scarlet bedroom slippers and 
green striped legs flashed out of sight through 
the bushes. 

“ Back — in — a — minute ! ” sounded shrilly 
through the woods. 

Keith found Malcolm on the back porch, 
pounding excitedly on a box which the express- 
man had left there a few minutes before. 

“It’s the camera we have been looking for 
all week,” he cried. “ Come on and have a look 
at it.” 

“ Ginger said to hurry back,” said Keith. 

“Pshaw! It won’t take but a minute. I’ll 
pry the box open in a jiffy.” 

It was harder work than the boys had sup- 
posed, to take the tightly nailed lid from its 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


155 


place, and they were so intent on their work 
they did not realise how quickly the minutes 
were passing. 

“ Isn’t it a beauty } ” exclaimed Malcolm, 
when it was at last unpacked. It’s lots bigger 
and finer than the one papa promised. But 
that’s the way he always does. Oh, isn’t it a 
peach ! ” 

I’ll tell you what,” said Keith, dancing up 
and down in his excitement, until he looked like 
a ridiculous little clown in the faded pink bath- 
ing-suit and his stripes of green paint, let’s 
take each other’s pictures while we are dressed 
this way. We may never look so funny again, 
and we can go down and take Ginger, too, while 
she is tied to the tree.” 

Can’t now,” said Malcolm, <‘it’s too dark 
down there in the woods by this time. See ! 
there is nothing left now of the sun but those 
red clouds above the place where it went down. 
I’m afraid it is too dark even for us up here on 
the hill ; but we can try. You do look funny, 
]ust like a jumping-jack or a monkey on a 
stick.” 

** Surely Ginger won’t mind waiting long 
enough for us to do it,” said Keith. ‘‘Any- 


156 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

how we can never dress up this way again, and 
grandmother will be coming home very soon, so 
you take mine quick, and I will take yours.” 

The boys had had some practice before with 
a cheap little camera, but this required some 
studying of the printed directions before they 
could use it. The first time they tried it the 
plates were put in wrong, and the second time 
/hey forgot to remove the cap. There were 
either things in the box besides the camera : 
lome beautiful pink curlew’s wings, a hand- 
somely marked snake skin, and some rare shells 
‘.hat had been picked up on the Gulf coast. Of 
iourse the boys had to examine each new treas- 
ire as it was discovered. One thing after 
mother delayed them until it was dusk even 
On the porch where they stood, and in the 
woods below a deep twilight had fallen. 

Every minute that had sped by so rapidly for 
che boys, seemed an age to the captive Virginia. 
Her i/jrms ached from the strain of their un- 
usual position. Swarms of gnats flew about, 
’itingiiig her face, and mosquitoes buzzed teas- 
!ngly around her ears. She was unable to 
inov-^ a finger to drive them away. 

When the boys had been gone fifteen min- 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


157 


utes she thought they must have been away 
hours. At the end of half an hour she was 
wild with impatience to get loose, but, thinking 
they might return any minute, she made no 
sign of her discomfort. She would be as 
heroic as the bravest brave ever tortured by 
cruel savages. As long as it was light she 
kept up her courage, but presently it began 
to grow dark under the great beech-trees. A 
frog down by the spring set up a dismal croak- 
ing. What if they should not come back, and 
her grandmother and Aunt Allison should miss 
the train, and have to stay in the city all night ! 
Then nobody would come to set her free, and 
she would have to stay in the lonely woods all 
by herself, tied to a tree, with her hands behind 
her back. 

At that thought she began calling, ‘‘Keith! 
Keith I Malcolm ! Oh, Malcolm 1 but only an 
echo came back to her, as it had to the dying 
Minnehaha, — a far-away echo that mocked her 
with its teasing cry of “ Mal-colm I ” Call after 
call went ringing through the woods, but nobody 
answered. Nobody came. 

There was a rustling through the leaves be* 
hind her, as of a snake gliding around the tree^ 


158 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 



She was not afraid of snakes in the daytime, 
and when she was unbound, but she shrieked 
and turned cold at the thought of one wriggling 
across her feet while she was powerless to get 
away. Every time a 
twig snapped, or there 
was a fluttering in the 
bushes, she strained 
her eyes to see what 
horrible thing might 
be creeping up to- 
ward her. She had 
no thought that live 
Indians might be 
lurking about, but all 
the terrible stories 
she had ever heard, 
of the days of Daniel 
Boone and the early 
settlers, came back * 
to haunt the woods 
with a nameless dread. 

She felt that she was standing on the real 
Kentucky that the Indians meant, when they 
gave the State its name. Dark a7id bloody 
ground! Dark and bloody ground!'" some- 


A GAME OF INDIAN, 


159 


thing seemed to say just behind her. Then 
the trees took it up, and all the leaves whis- 
pered, ‘‘ S/i — sk, sh / Dark and bloody ground] 

S/i—shr* 

At that she was so frightened that she began 
calling again, but the sound of her own voice 
startled her. “ Oh, they are not coming,” she 
thought, with a miserable ache in her throat, 
that seemed swelling bigger and bigger. T’li 
have to stay here in the woods all night. Oh, 
mamma ! mamma ! ” she moaned, “ I am so 
scared ! If you could only come back and get 
your poor little girl ! ” 

Up to this time she had bravely fought back 
the tears, but just then a screech-owl flapped 
down from a branch above her with such a dis- 
mal hooting that she gave a nervous start and a 
cry of terror. Oh, that frightened me so ! ” 
she sobbed. “ I don’t believe I can stand it to 
be out here all night alone with so many hor- 
rible creepy things everywhere. And nobody 
cares 1 Nobody but papa and mamma, and they 
are away, way off in Cuba. Maybe I’ll never 
see them any more.*’ At that the tears rolled 
down her face, and she could not move a hand 
to wipe them away. To be so little and miser. 


l60 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

able and forsaken, so worn out with waiting and 
so helpless among all these unknown horrors 
that the dark woods might hold, was worse tor- 
ture to the imaginative child than any bodily 
pain could have been. 

It was just as her last bit of courage oozed 
away, and she began to cry, that the boys sud- 
denly realised how long they had left her. 

“It must be as dark as a pocket in the woods 
by this time,” exclaimed Malcolm. “ What do 
you suppose Ginger will say to us for leaving 
her so long ? ” 

“You will have to take a knife to cut her 
loose,” said Keith. “ I tried to untie the knots 
before I came away, but I couldn’t move them.’* 

“My pocket-knife is up-stairs,” answered 
Malcolm. “I’ll get something in the dining- 
room that will do.” 

He was rushing out again with a carving-knife 
in his hand, when he came face to face with his 
grandmother and Aunt Allison. The boys had 
been so interested in their camera that they had 
not heard the train whistle, or the sound of 
footsteps coming up on the front veranda, 
Pete was lighting the hall lamps as the ladies 
came in, and he turned his back to hide the broad 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


I6l 

grin on his face, as he thought of the sight 
which would soon greet them. Mrs. MacIntyre 
gave a gasp of astonishment and sank down in 
the nearest chair as Malcolm came dashing 
into the bright lamplight. 

His turkey feathers were all awryc, standing 
out in a dozen different directions from his 
head, his blanket trailed behind him, and the 
fringe was hanging in festoons from his leggins, 
where it had come unpinned. The red paint 
on his face made him look as if he had been in 
a fight with the carving-knife he carried, and 
had had the skin peeled off his face in patches. 

Wild as he looked, his appearance was tame 
beside that of the impish-looking little savage 
who skipped in after him, in the scarlet bedroom 
slippers, pink striped bathing-suit and green 
striped skin. 

“ Keith MacIntyre, what have you been doing 
to yourself ? ” gasped his grandmother. Both 
boys began an excited exclamation, but were 
stopped by Miss Allison’s question, “ Where 
is Virginia ? Have you two little savages 
scalped her ” 

She’s tied to a tree down by the spring.” 
answered Malcolm. “We are just starting 


1 62 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

down there now to cut her loose. You see we 
were playing Indian, and she was tied up to be 
tortured, and we forgot all about her being 
there — ” 

But Miss Allison waited to hear no more. 
“The poor little thing ! ” she exclaimed. “Tied 
out there alone in the dark woods ! How could 
you be so cruel ? It is enough to frighten her 
into spasms.” 

“ Tm awfully sorry. Aunt Allison ! ” began 
Malcolm, but his aunt was already out of hear- 
ing. Out of the door she ran, through the 
dewy grass and the stubble of the field beyond, 
regardless of her dainty spring gown, or hei 
new patent leather shoes. Malcolm and Keith 
dashed out after her, ran on ahead and were at 
the spring before she had climbed the fence into 
the woodland 

Virginia was not crying when the boys 
reached her. She remembered that she had 
once called Malcolm “ Rain-in-th e-face ” because 
she caught him crying over something that 
seemed to her a very little reason, and she did 
not intend to give him a chance to taunt her in 
the same way. She was glad that it w'as too 
dark for him to notice her tear-swollen eyes. 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


163 

‘‘Whew! It’s dark down here! ” said Keith. 
“ Were you frightened, Ginger ? ” he asked, as 
he helped Malcolm unfasten the cords that 
bound her. But Ginger made no reply to either 
questions or apologies. She walked on in dig- 
nified silence, too deeply hurt by their neglect, 
too full of a sense of the wrong they had done 
her, to trust herself to speak without crying, 
and she intended to be game to the last. But 
when she came upon Miss Allison, and sud- 
denly found herself folded safe in her arms, 
with pitying kisses and comforting caresses, she 
clung to her, sobbing as if her heart -would 
break. 

“ Oh, auntie ! It was so awful ! ” was all she 
could say, but she repeated it again and again, 
until Miss Allison, who had never seen her so 
excited before, was alarmed. The boys, who 
had run on ahead to the house again, before she 
gave way to her feelings, were inclined to look 
upon it all as a good joke, for they had no 
idea how much she had suffered, and did not 
like it because she would not speak to them. 
They changed their minds when Miss Allison 
came out of Virginia’s room a little later, and 
told them that the fright had given the child 


1 64 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

a nervous chill, and that she had cried hei’self 
to sleep. 

“ We didn’t mean to do it,” said Keith, peni- 
tently. “We just forgot, and I’m mighty 
sorry, truly I am, auntie ! ” 

“ I am not scolding you,” said Miss Allison, 
“but if I were either of you boys, I wouldn’t 
wear my little white flower when I dressed for 
dinner to-night. Instead of being the protector 
of a distressed maiden, as the old knights would 
have said, you have done her a wrong, — a serious 
one I am afraid, — and that wrong ought to 
be made right as far as possible before you 
are worthy to wear the badge of knighthood 
again.” 

“We’ll go and beg her pardon right now,” 
said Malcolm. 

“No, she is asleep now, and I do not want 
her to be disturbed. Besides, a mere apology 
is not enough. You must make some kind of 
atonement. The first thing for you to do, how- 
ever, is to get some turpentine and remove that 
paint. Where did you get it, boys ? ” 

“Out of your paint-box, Aunt Allison,” said 
Malcolm. “We didn’t think you would care. 
I was only going to take a little, but it 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 1 6 $ 

soaked in so fast that I had to use two tubes 
of it.” 

“ I used more than that,” confessed Keith, 
looking at her with his big honest eyes ; “ but 
I got so interested pretending that I was turning 
into a real Indian, that I never thought about 
its being anybody else’s paint. Aunt Allison, 
truly I didn’t ! ” 

She turned away to hide a smile. The 
earnest little face above the striped body was 
so yery comical. Picking up several of the 
empty tubes that had been squeezed quite flat, 
she read the labels. Rose madder and car- 
mine,” she said, solemnly, ‘‘two of my very 
most expensive paints.” 

“ Dear me ! ” sighed Malcolm, “ then there’s 
another wrong that’s got to be righted. I guess 
Keith and I weren’t cut out for knights. I’m 
beginning to think that it’s a mighty tough 
business anyhow.” 

That night, when the boys came down to 
dinner, no little white flower with its diamond 
dewdrop centre shone on the lapel of either 
coat. It had been a work of time to scrub off 
the paint, and then it took almost as long to 
get rid of the turpentine, so that dinner was 


1 66 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

ready long before Keith was finally clad in his 
flannels. “ My throat is sore,” he complained 
to Malcolm at bedtime, but did not mention it 
to any one else that night. He sat on the side 
of his bed a moment before undressing, with one 
foot across his knee, staring thoughtfully at the 
lamp. Presently, with one shoe in his hand 
and the other half unlaced, he * hopped over to 
the dressing-table and stood before it, looking 
at first one picture and then another. 

Eight different photographs of his mother 
were ranged along the table below the wide 
mirror, some taken in evening dress, some in 
simple street costume, and each one so beauti- 
ful that it would have been hard to decide 
which one had the greatest charm. 

** I wish mamma was here to-night,” said 
Keith, softly, with a little quiver of his 
lip. << Seems like she’s been gone almost 
always.” 

He picked up a large Roman locket of beaten 
silver that lay open on the table. It held two 
exquisitely painted miniatures on ivory. One 
was the same sweet face that looked out at him 
from each of the photographs, the other was 
his father’s. It showed a handsome young 


A GAME OF INDIAN. 


167 

fellow with strong, clean-shaven face, with eyes 
like Keith’s, and the same lordly poise of the 
fine head that Malcolm had. 

« Good night, papa, good night, mamma ! ” 
whispered Keith, touching his lips hastily to 
each picture while Malcolm’s back was turned. 
There were tears in his eyes. Somehow he was 
so miserably homesick. 

Next morning, although Keith’s throat was 
not so sore, he was burning with fever by the 
time his lessons were over. Before his grand' 
mother saw him he was off on his wheel for a 
long ride, and then, because he was so hot when 
he came back, he slipped away to the pond with 
the pink bathing-suit under his coat, and took 
, the swim that he had been looking forward to 
so long. Nobody knew where he was, and he 
stayed in the water until his lips aoid finger- 
nails were blue. The morning after that he 
was too ill to get up, and Mrs. MacIntyre sent 
for a doctor. 

He has always been so perfectly wel^ and 
seemed to have such a strong constitution, that 
I cannot allow myself to believe this will be 
anything serious,” said Mrs. MacIntyre, but at 
the end of the third day he was so much worse 


1 68 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

that she sent to the city for a trained nurse, 
and telegraphed for his father and mother. 

They had already left Florida, and were 
yachting up the Atlantic coast on their way 
home when the message reached them. 


CHAPTEk VIII. 


“ FAIRCHANCE.’" 

Malcolm did his best to atone to Virginia 
for what she had suffered from the forgetful- 
ness of the two little Indians, but poor Keith 
was too ill to remember anything about it. He 
did not know his father and mother when they 
came, and tossed restlessly about, talking wildly 
of things they could not understand. It was 
the first time he had ever been so ill, and as 
they watched him lying there day after day, 
burning with fever, and growing white and thin, 
a great fear came upon them that he would 
never be any better. 

No one put that fear into words, but little 
by little it crept from heart to heart like a 
wintry fog, until the whole house felt its chill. 
The sweet spring sounds and odours came rush- 
ing in at every window from the sunny world 
outside, but it might as well have been mid- 
169 


I/O TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

winter. No one paid any heed while that little 
life hung in the balance. The servants went 
through the house on tiptoe. Malcolm and 
Virginia haunted the halls to discover from the 
grave faces of the older people v.hat they were 
afraid to ask, and Mrs. MacIntyre was kept 
busy answering the inquiries of the neighbours. 
Scarcely an hour passed that some one did not 
come to ask about Keith, to leave flowers, or 
to proffer kindly services. Everybody who knew 
the little fellow loved him. His bright smile 
and winning manner had made him a host of 
friends. 

• There was no lack of attention. His father 
and mother. Miss Allison, and the nurse watched 
every breath, every pulse-beat ; and a dozen 
times in the night his grandmother stole to the 
door to look anxiously at the wan little face on 
the pillow. 

** It is so strange,” said his mother to the 
nurse one day. ‘‘ He keeps talking about a 
white flower. He says that he can’t right the 
wrong unless he wears it, and that Jonesy will 
have to be shut up and never find his brother 
again. What do you suppose he means ? ” 

The nurse shook her head. She did not know 


" FAIRCHANCE.' 


171 


t> 


Just then Mrs. MacIntyre heard her name 
called softly, ‘*Elise,” and her husband beck- 
oned her to come out into the hall. « I want 
to show you something in Allison’s room,” he 
said, leading her down the hall to his sister’s 
apartment. On each side of the low writing- 
desk stood a large photograph, one of Malcolm 
in his suit of mail, the other of Keith in the 
costume of jewel-embroidered velvet, like the 
little Duke of Gloster’s. 

Oh, Sydney ! How beautiful ! ” she ex- 
claimed, as she swept across the room and 
knelt down before the desk for a better view. 
Leaning her arms on the desk, she looked into 
Keith’s pictured face with hungry eyes. “ Isn’t 
he lovely ? ” she repeated. “ Oh, he’ll never 
look like that again ! I know it ! I know it ! ” 
she sobbed, remembering how white was the 
little face on the pillow that she had just left. 

Mr. MacIntyre bent over her, his own hand- 
some face white and haggard. He looked ill 
himself, from the constant watching and anxiety. 
<0’d give anything in the world that I own ! 
Everything!” he groaned. *0’d do anything, 
sacrifice anything, to see him as well and sturdy 
as he looks there ! 


172 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 


Then he caught up the picture. ‘‘ What’s 
this written underneath ? ” he asked, ‘‘ It is in 
Keith’s own handwriting : ‘ Live pure^ speak 



truthy right the wrongy follow the king. Else 
wherefore born f ’ 

‘‘What does it mean, Allison?” he asked, 


“ FAIRCHANCE.” 


173 


turning to his sister, who was resting on a 
couch by the window. “ It is written under 
Malcolm’s picture, too.” 

“The dear little Sir Galahads,” she said, 
“I sent for you to tell you about them. The 
boys intended the pictures as a surprise for you 
and Elise, so we never sent them. They 
wanted to tell you themselves about the Benefit 
and the little waif they gave it for.” 

She took a little pin from a jewel-case under 
the sofa pillows, and reaching over, dropped it 
in her brother’s hand. It was a tiny flower of 
white enamel, with a diamond dewdrop in the 
centre. 

“You may have noticed Malcolm wearing 
one like it,” she said, and then she told them 
the story of Jonesy and the bear and all that 
their coming had led to : the Benefit, the new 
order of knighthood, and the awakening of the 
boys to a’ noble purpose. 

“ The boys fully expect you to stand by them 
in all this, Sydney,” she said, in conclusion, 
“and play fairy godfather for Jonesy henceforth 
and for ever. One night, when Keith came up 
to confess some mischief he had been into 
during the day, he said ; 


174 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

“ ‘ Aunt Allison, this wearing the white 
flower of a blameless life isn’t as easy as it 
is cracked up to be; but having this little 
pin helps a lot. I just put my hand on that 
like the real knights used to do on their sword- 
hilts, and repeat my motto. It will be easier 
when papa comes home. Since I’ve known 
Jonesy, and heard him tell about the hard times 
some people have that he knows, it seems to 
me there’s an awful lot of wrong in the world 
for somebody to set right. Some nights I can 
hardly go to sleep for thinking about it, and 
wishing that I were grown up so that I could 
begin to do my part. I wish papa could be 
here now. He’d make a splendid knight ; he 
is so big and good and handsome. I don’t 
s’ pose King Arthur himself was any better or 
braver than my father is.’ ” 

A tear splashed down from the mother’s eyes 
as she listened, and, falling on the tiny white 
flower as it lay in her husband’s hand, glistened 
beside the dewdrop centre like another diamond. 

“Oh, Sydney!” she excldimed, in a heart- 
broken way. Something very like a sob shook 
the man’s broad shoulders, and, turning abruptly, 
he strode out of the room. 


FAIRCHANCE.’ 


Down in the dim, green library, where the 
blinds had been drawn to keep it cool, he threw 
himself into a chair beside the table. Prop- 
ping Keith’s picture up in front of him against 
a pile of books, he leaned forward, gazing at 
it earnestly. He had never realised before 
how much he loved the little son, who hour 
by hour seemed slowly slipping farther away 
from him. The pictured face looked full into 
his as if it would speak. It wore the same 
sweet, trustful expression that had shone there 
the night he talked to Jonesy of the Hall of 
the Shields ; the same childish purity that had 
moved the old professor to lay his hands upon 
his head and call him Galahad. 

All that gentle birth, college breeding, wealth, 
and travel could give a man, were Sydney 
MacIntyre’s, and yet. measuring himself by 
Keith’s standard of knighthood, he felt him- 
self sadly lacking. He had given liberally to 
charities hundreds of dollars, because it was 
often easier for him to Write out a check than 
to listen to somebody’s tale of suffering. But 
aside from that he had left the old world to 
wag on as best it could, with its grievous load 
of wrong and sorrow. 


1/6 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

A man is not apt to trouble himself as to 
how it wags for those outside his circle of 
friends, when the generations before him have 
spent their time laying up a fortune for him 
to enjoy. But this man was beginning to 
trouble himself about it now, as he paced rest- 
lessly up and down the room. He was not 
thinking now about the things that usually 
occupied him, his social duties, his home or 
club, or yacht or horses or kennels. He was 
not planning some new pleasure for his friends 
or family, he was wondering what he could do 
to be worthy of the exalted regard in which he 
was held by his little sons. What wrong could 
he set right, to prove himself really as noble as 
they thought him } He was their ideal of all 
that was generous and manly, and yet — 

‘‘What have I ever done,” he asked himself, 
“to make them think so? If I were to be 
taken out of the world to-morrow, I would 
be leaving it exactly as I found it. Who could 
point to my coffin and say, ‘Laws are better, 
politics are purer, or times are not so hard for 
the masses now, because this one man willed to 
lift up his fellows as far as the might of one 
strong life can reach ?* But they will say that 


FAIRCHANCE/' 1 77 

of Malcolm, and Keith, if he lives — ah, if he 
lives ! ” 

An hour later the door opened, and Malcolm 
came in, softly. Keith is asking for you, 
papa,” he said, with a timid glance into his 
father’s haggard face. Then he came nearer, 
and slipped his hand into the man’s strong 
fingers, and together they went up the stairs 
to answer the summons. 

‘‘ Did you want me, Keith } ” 

The head did not turn on the pillow. The 
languid eyes opened only half-way, but there 
was recognition in them now, and one little 
hand was raised to lay itself lovingly against 
his father’s cheek. 

‘‘ What is it, son ? ” 

The weak little voice tried to answer, but the 
words came only in gasps. Brother knows — 
about Jonesy — keep him from being a tramp! 
Please let me, papa — do that much good — 
in my life “ else wherefore — born } ’ ” 

What is it, Keith .? ” asked his father, bend- 
ing over him. *‘Papa doesn’t exactly under- 
stand. But you can have anything you want, 
my boy. Anything ! I’ll do whatever you 
ask.” 


178 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

‘‘Malcolm knows,” was the answer. Then 
the voice seemed somewhat stronger for an 
instant, and a faint smile touched Keith’s lips. 
“ Give my half of the bear to Ginger. Now — 
may I have — my — white — flower ? ” 

Throwing back his coat, his father unpinned 
the little badge from his vest, where he had 
fastened it for safe-keeping a short time before 
in the library. A pleased expression flitted 
over the child’s face, as he saw where it had 
been resting, and when it was fastened in the 
front of his little embroidered nightshirt, his 
hand closed over the pin as if it were something 
very precious, and he were afraid of losing it 
again. 

“Wearing the white flower,” they heard him 
whisper, and then the little knight slept. 

It was hours afterward when he roused again, 
— hours when the faintest noise had not been 
allowed in the house ; when the servants had 
been sent to the cottage, and Unc’ Henry sta- 
tioned at the front gate, that no one might drive 
up the avenue. 

Virginia, in a hammock on the veranda, 
scarcely dared draw a deep breath till she 


“ FAIRCHANCE.’ 


179 




heard the doctor coming down the stairs, just 
before dark. Then she knew by his face that 
prayers and skill and tender nursing had not 
been in vain, and that Keith would live. 

So much can happen in a week. In the 
seven days that followed Keith gradually grew 
strong enough to be propped up in bed a little 
while at a time ; Captain Dudley and his wife 
came home from Cuba, and Mr. MacIntyre 
began to carry out the promise he had made 
to Keith that day when they feared most he 
could not live. 

The whole Valley rejoiced in the first and 
second happenings, and were too much occu- 
pied in them to notice the third. Carriages 
rolled in and out of the great entrance gate 
all day long, for Mrs. Dudley had always been 
a favourite with the old neighbours, and they 
gave a warm welcome to her and her gallant 
husband. Virginia followed her father and 
mother about like a loving shadow, and Keith 
was so interested in the wonderful stories they 
told of their Cuban experiences that he never 
noticed how much his father and Malcolm were 
away from home. Sometimes they would be 


l80 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

gone all day together, consulting with the 
old professor, overseeing carpenters, or mak- 
ing hasty trips to the city. Jonesy’s home, 
that had been so long only a beautiful air- 
castle, was rapidly taking shape in wood and 
stone, and the painters would soon be at work 
on it. 

Mr. MacIntyre had never been more surprised 
than he was when Malcolm unfolded their plan 
to him. It did not seem possible that two chil- 
dren could have thought of it all, and arranged 
every detail without the help of some older 
head. 

“ It just grew,” said Malcolm, in explanation. 

First Keith said how lovely it would have been 
if we had made enough money at the Benefit to 
have bought a home for Jonesy in the country, 
where he ^ould have a fair chance to grow up 
a good man. Just a comfortable little cottage 
with a garden, where he could be out-of-doors 
all the time, instead of in the dirty city streets ; 
then nobody could call him a 'child of the 
slums* any more. Then we said it would be 
better if there were some fields back of the 
garden, so that he could learn to be a farmer 
when he was older, and have some way to make 


“ FAIRCHANCE.” l8l 

a living. We talked about it every night when 
we went to bed, and kept putting a little more 
and a little more to it, until it was as real to 
us as if we had truly seen such a place. There 
were vines on the porches, and a big Newfound- 
land dog on the front steps, and a cow and calf 
in the pasture, and a gentle old horse that could 
plough and that Jonesy could ride to water. 

‘‘We told Ginger, and she thought of a lot 
more things ; some little speckled pigs in a pen, 
and kittens in the hay-mow, and ducks on the 
pond, and an orchard, and roses in the yard. 
She said we ought to call the place “Fair- 
chance,” because that’s what it would mean for 
Jonesy and Barney (you know we would send 
for Barney first thing we did, of course), and it 
was Ginger who first thought of getting some 
nice man and his wife to take care of the boys. 
She said there are plenty of people who would 
be glad to do it, just for the sake of having 
such a good home. ' Ginger said if we could do 
all that, and keep Jonesy and his brother from 
growing up to be tramps like the man we 
bought the bear from, it would be serving our 
country just as much as if we went to war and 
fought for it. Ginger is a crank about being a 


lS2 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

patriot. You ought to hear her talk about it. 
And Aunt Allison said that ‘an ounce of pre- 
vention is worth a pound of cure/ and that to 
build such a place as our ‘ Fairchance ’ would be 
a deed worthy of any true knight.” 

“ How are you expecting to bring this won. 
derful thing to pass ? ” asked his father, as 
Malcolm stopped to take breath. “Do you 
expect to wave a wand and see it spring up 
out of the earth } ” 

“ Of course not, papa ! ” said Malcolm, a little 
provoked by his father’s teasing smile. “We 
were going to ask you to let us take the money 
that grandfather left us in his will. We won’t 
need it when we are grown, for we can earn 
plenty ourselves then, and it seems too bad to 
have it laid away doing nobody any good, when 
we need it so much now to right this wrong of 
Jonesy’s.” 

“ But it is not laid away,” answered Mr. Mac. 
Intyre. “ It is invested in such a way that it 
is earning you more money every year ; and 
more than that, it was left in trust for you, so 
that it cannot be touched until you are twenty- 
one.” 

“ Oh, papa ! ” cried Malcolm, bitterly disap 


" FAIRCBIANCE.” 


183 


pointed. He had hard work to keep back the 
tears for a moment ; then a happy thought 
made his face brighten. “You could lend us 
the money, and we would pay you back when 
we are of age. You know you promised Keith 
you would do anything he wanted, and that is 
what he was trying to ask for ? ” 

Mr. MacIntyre put his arm around the ear- 
nest little fellow, and drew him to his knee, smil- 
ing down into the upturned face that waited 
eagerly for his answer. 

“ I only asked that to hear what you would 
say, my son,” was the answer. “You need 
have no worry about the money. I’ll keep my 
promise to Keith, and Jonesy shall have his 
home. I’m not a knight, but I’m proud to 
be the father of two such valiant champions. 
Please God, you’ll not be alone in your battles 
after this, to right the world’s wrongs. I’ll be 
your faithful squire, or, as we’d say in these 
days, a sort of silent partner in the enterprise.” 

Several days after this a deed was recorded 
in the county court-house, conveying a large 
piece of property from old Colonel Lloyd to 
Malcolm and Keith MacIntyre. It was the 
place adjoining “The Locusts,” on which stood 


184 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

a fine old homestead that had been vacant for 
several years. The day after its purchase a 
force of carpenters and painters were set to 
work, and two coloured men began clearing 
put the tangle of bushes in the long-neglected 
garden. 

Jonesy know nothing of what was going on, 
and wondered at the long conversations which 
took place between the old professor and Mr. 
MacIntyre, always in German. It was the pro- 
fessor who found some one to take care of the 
home, as Virginia had suggested. He recom- 
mended a countryman of his, Carl Sudsberger, 
who had long been a teacher like himself. He 
was a gentle old soul who loved children and 
understood them, and a more motherly crea- 
ture than his wife could not well be imagined. 
Everything throve under her thrifty manage- 
ment, and she had no patience with laziness or 
waste. Any boy in whose bringing up she had 
a hand would be able to make his way in the 
world when the time came for it. 

Mrs. Dudley and Miss Allison helped choose 
the furnishings, but Virginia felt that the pleas- 
ure of it w'ls all hers, for she was taken to the 
city every time they went, and allowed a voice 


" FAIRCHANCE." 


185 


in everything. Several trips were necessary 
before the house was complete, but by the last 
week in May it was ready from attic to cellar. 

It was the Fairchance ” that the boys had 
planned so long, with its rose-bordered paths* 
the orchard and garden and outlying fields. 
Nothing had been forgotten, from the big New* 
foundland dog on the doorstep, to the ducks on 
the pond, and the little speckled pigs in the pen. 
The day that Keith was able to walk dowrj* 
stairs for the first time, Mr. MacIntyre went to 
Chicago, taking Jonesy with him, to find 
Barney and bring him back. He was gone 
several days, and when he returned there were 
three boys with him instead of two : Jonesy, 
Barney, and a little fellow about five years old, 
still in dresses. 

Malcolm met them at the train, and eyed the 
small newcomer with curiosity. “ It is a little 
chap that Barney had taken under his wing,” 
explained Mr. MacIntyre. “Its mother was 
dead, and I found it was entirely dependent 
on Barney for support. They slept together in 
the same cellar, and "shared whatever he hap- 
pened to earn, just as Jonesy did. I hadn’t the 
heart to leave him behind, although I didn’t 


1 86 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 


relish the idea of travelling with such a kinder- 
garten. Would you believe it, Dodds (that’s 
the little fellow’s name) never saw a tree in his 



life uncil yesterday ? He had never been out of 
the slums where he was born, not even to the 
avenues of the city where he could have seen 
them. It was too far for him to walk alone, and 
street-cars were out of the question for him, — as> 


'' F AIRCHANCE.” 1 8 / 

much out of reach of his empty pockets as the 
moon.” 

Never saw a tree ! ” echoed Malcolm, with 
a thrill of horror in his voice that a life could 
be so bare in its knowledge of beauty. *‘Oh, 
papa, how much ‘ Fairchance ’ will mean to him, 
then ! Oh, I’m so glad, and Keith — why, 
Keith will want to stand on his head ! ” 
They drove directly to the new place. It 
was late in the afternoon, and the sunshine 
threw long, waving shadows across the yard. 
Mrs. Sudsberger sat on the front porch knit- 
ting. A warm breeze blowing in from the 
garden stirred the white window curtains be- 
hind her with soft flutterings. The coloured 
woman in the kitchen was singing as she 
moved around preparing supper, and her voice 
floated cheerily around the corner of the 
house : 

“Swing low, sweet chariot, cornin’ fer to carry me 
home, 

Swing low, sweet char-i-^/, cornin’ fer to carry me 
home ! ” 

A Jersey cow lowed at the pasture bars, and 
from away over in the woodland came the 


1 88 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY, 

cooing of a dove. Three little waifs had found 
a home. 

Mr. MacIntyre looked from the commonplace 
countenances of the boys climbing out of the 
carriage to Malcolm’s noble face. “ It is a 
doubtful experiment,” he said to himself. 
“ They may never amount to anything, but 
at least they shall have a chance to see what 
clean, honest, country living can do for them.” 
And then there swept across his heart, with a 
warm, generous rush, the impulse to do as 
much for every other unfortunate child he 
could reach, whose only heritage is the pov- 
erty and crime of city slums. He had seen 
so much in that one short visit. The misery 
of it haunted him, and it was with a happiness 
as boyish and keen as Malcolm’s that he led 
these children he had rescued into the home 
that was to be theirs henceforth. 

Keith did not see ‘‘ Fairchance ” until Memo- 
rial Day. Then they took him over in the car- 
riage in the afternoon, and showed him every 
nook and corner of the place. There were six 
boys there now, for room had been made for two 
little fellows from Louisville, whom Mr. MacIn- 
tyre had found at the Newsboys’ Home. ‘‘ I’ve 


FAIRCHANCE. 


189 


M 


no doubt but that there’ll always be more com- 
ing,” he said to Mr. Sudsberger, with a smile, as 
he led them in. When you once let a little 
water trickle through the dyke, the whole sea is 
apt to come pouring in.” 

“ Happy the heart that is swept with such 
high tides,” answered the old German. “ It is 
left the richer by such floods.” 

Several families in the Valley were invited to 
come late in the afternoon to a flag-raising. 
The great silk flag was Virginia’s gift, and 
Captain Dudley made the presentation speech. 
He wore his uniform in honour of the occasion. 
This was a part of what he said : 

“ This Memorial Day, throughout this wide^ 
spread land of ours, over every mound that 
marks a soldier’s dust, some hand is stretched 
to drop a flower in tender tribute. Over her 
heroic dead a grateful country wreathes the red 
of her roses, the white of her lilies, and the 
blue of her forget-me-nots, repeating even in 
the sweet syllables of the flowers the symbol of 
her patriotism, — the red, white, and blue of her 
war-stained banner. 

“ My friends, I have followed the old flag into 
more than one battle. I have seen men charge 


190 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

after it through blinding smoke and hail of 
bullets, and I have seen them die for it. No 
one feels more deeply than I what a glorious 
thing it is to die for one’s country, but I want 
to say to these little lads looking up at this 
great flag fluttering over us, that it is not half 
so noble, half so brave, as to live for it, to give 
yourselves in untiring, every-day living to your 
country’s good. To Tet all the ends thou 
aim’st at be thy country’s, thy God’s, and 
truth’s.’ I would rather have that said of mei 
that I did that, than to be the greatest general 
of my day. I would rather be the founder of 
homes like this one than to manoeuvre success- 
fully the greatest battles. 

‘‘ May the ‘Two Little Knights of Kentucky ’ 
go on, out through the land, carrying their 
motto with them, until the last wrong is righted, 
and wherever the old flag floats a ‘ fair chance ’ 
may be found for every one that lives beneath 
it. And may these Stars and Stripes, as they 
rise and fall on the winds of this peaceful 
valley, whisper continuously that same motto, 
until its lessons of truth and purity and unself- 
ish service have been blazoned on the hearts of 
every boy who calls this home. May it help 


FAIRCHANCE.” 1 9 1 

to make him a true knight in his country’s 
cause.” 

There was music after that, and then old 
Colonel Lloyd made a speech, and Virginia and 
the Little Colonel gathered roses out of the old 
garden, so that every one could wear a bunch. 
A little later they had supper on the lawn, 
picnic fashion, and then drove home in the cool 
of the evening, when all the meadows were full 
of soft flashings from the fairy torches of a 
million fireflies. 

With Keith safely covered up in a hammock, 
they lingered on the porch long after the stars 
came out, and the dew lay heavy on the roses. 
They were building other air-castles now, to be 
rebuilt some day, as Jonesy’s home had been ; 
only these were still larger and better. The 
older people were planning, too, and all the 
good that grew out of that quiet evening talk 
can never be known until that day comes when 
the King shall read all the names in his Hall 
of the Shields. 

*^It has been sueh a beautiful day,” said 
Virginia, leaning her head happily against her 
mother’s shoulder. Then she started up, sud- 
denly remembering something. ‘‘ Oh, papa ! ” 


192 TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY. 

she cried, “ let’s end it as they do at the fort, 
with the bugle-call. I’ll run and get my old 
bugle, and you play ‘ taps.’ ” 

A few minutes later the silvery notes went 
floating out on the warm night air, through all 
the peaceful valley; over the mounds in the 
little churchyard, wreathed now with their 
fresh memorial roses; past ‘‘The Locusts” 
where the Little Colonel lay a-dreaming. Over 
the woods and fields they floated, until they 
reached the flag that kept its fluttering vigil 
over “ Fairchance.” 

Jonesy sat up in bed to listen. Many a 
reveille would sound before his full awakening 
to all that the two little knights had made 
possible for him, but the sweet, dim dream of 
the future that stole into his grateful little 
heart was an earnest of what was in store for 
him. Then the bugle-call, falling through the 
starlight like a benediction, closed the happy 
day with its peaceful “ Good night.” 


THE END. 


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to understand perfectly the girl character.” — Boston 
Globe. 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION 

“It is a wholesome, hearty story .” — Utica Observer, 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS 

The book is delightfully writtea, and contains lots of esdthtg 
inddents, 

A — S 


TEE PAGE COMPANrS 


FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

iBy Charles H. L. Johnston 
Each large 12mo, doth decorative, illustrated, per 

volume $1.50 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 

“ More of such books should be written, books that 
acquaint young readers with historical personages in a 
pleasant, informal way.” — New York Sun. 

It is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and 
will prove interesting as well to the adults.” — Lawrence 
Daily WorU. 

FAMOUS INDIAN CfflEFS 

“ Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, 
and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these 
famous Indians with the whites for the possession of 
America is a worthy addition to United States History.” 
— New York Marine Journal. 

FAMOUS SCOUTS 

“ It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascina- 
tion for boys and young men, and while it entertains them 
it will also present valuable information in regard to 
those who have left their impress upon the history of the 
country.” — The New London Day. 

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVEN- 
TURERS OF THE SEA 

“ The tales are more than merely interesting; they are 
entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and 
bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the 
dramas of the sea.” — The Pittsburgh Post. 

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES 
OF THE BORDER 

“ The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly 
readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love 
the history of actual adventure.” — Cleveland Leader. 

FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS 
OF AMERICA 

“The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and 
bravest adventures of which the world has known and of 
discoveries which have changed the face of the old world 
as well as of the new.” — Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 

A—4t 


’BOORS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 

HILDEGARDE- MARGARET SERIES 

By Laura E. Richards 
Eleven Volumes 

The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with 
** Queen Hildegarde ” and ending with “ The Merry- 
weathers,” make one of the best and most popular series 
of books for girls ever written. 

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 
per volume . . . . . . . $1.35 

The eleven volumes boxed as a set . . $14<.85 

LIST OF TITLES 

QUEEN HILDEGARDE 

HILDEGARDE ’S HOLIDAY 

HILDEGARDE’S HOME 

HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS 

HILDEGARDE’S HARVEST 

THREE MARGARETS 

MARGARET MONTFORT 

PEGGY 

RITA 

FERNLEY HOUSE 

THE HlERRYWEATHERS 

A — 5 


THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES 

By Laura E. Richards 

Each one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illus- 
trated, per volume 60 cents 

CAPTAIN JANUARY 

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose 
success has been very remarkable. 

SAME. Illustrated Holiday Edition . . $1.35 


MELODY: The Story of a Child. 

MARIE 

A companion to “Melody” and ‘Captain January.” 

ROSIN THE BEAU 

A sequel to “ Melody ” and “ Marie.” 

SNOW-WHITE; Oa, The House in the Wood. 

JIM OF HELLAS; Or, In Durance Vile, and a 
companion story, Bethesda Pool. 

NARCISSA 

And a companion story, In Verona, being two delight- 
ful short stories of New England life. 

" SOME SAY ” 

And a companion story. Neighbors in Cy'rus. 

NAUTILUS 

“ ‘ Nautilus * is by far the best product of the author’s 
powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so 
richly merits.” 

ISLA HERON 

This interesting story is written in the author’s usual 
charming manner. 

THE LITTLE MASTER 

“ A well told, interesting tale of a high character.” — 
California Gateway Gazette, 

A— 6 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE 
FOLKS 

By Laura E. Richards 

THREE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color 
and many text illustrations . . . . $1.35 

“ Little ones will understand and delight in the stories 
and poems.” — Indianapolis News. 

FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.35 

A charming collection of short stories and clever poems 
for children. 

MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.35 

A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems 
for children, which will prove as popular with mothers 
as with boys and girls. 

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.35 

The story of their lives and other wonderful things 
related by the Man in the Moon, done in the vernacular 
from the lunacular form by Laura E. Richards. 

POLLYANNA ANNUAL NO. i 

Trade Mark 

The Yearly GLAD Book. 

Trade ■—“—“Mark 
Edited by Florence Orville. 

Large octavo, with nearly 200 illustrations, 12 in full 
color, bound with an all-over pictorial cover design in 
colors, with fancy printed end papers. $1.50 

“The contents of this splendid volume are evidently 
intended to demonstrate the fact that work is as good 
a glad game as play if gone about the right way. There 
are clever little drawings any one could imitate, and in 
imitating learn something. There are adventurous tales, 
fairy tales, scientific tales, comic stories and serious 
stories in verse and prose.” — Montreal Herald and Star, 
A— 7 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE 
RAILROAD SERIES 

By Burtok E. Stevenson 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 
per volume ....... $1.50 

THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; Ob, The Ad- 

ventures OF Allan West. 

“The whole range of section railroading is covered in 
the story.” — Chicago Post. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER 

“ A vivacious account of the varied and often hazard- 
ous nature of railroad life.” — Congregationalist. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER 

“ It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to 
anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing 
yarn.” — Passaic News. 

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; Or, Allan West's 

Chum. 

“ The story is intensely interesting .” — Baltimore Sun. 

STORIES BY 
BREWER CORCORAN 

Each, one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illus- 
trated, per volume ...... $1.50 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF KENDALLVILLE 

Published with the approval of “ The Boy Scouts of 
America/* 

The story of a bright young factory worker who can- 
not enlist because he has three dependents, but his 
knowledge of woodcraft and wig-wagging gained through 
Scout practice enables him to foil a German plot to blow 
up the munitions factory. 

THE BARBARIAN; Or, Will Bradford’s School 
Days at St. Jo’s. 

“This is a splendid story of friendship, study and 
sport, winding up with a perfectly corking double play.” 
— Springfield Union. 

A-« 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS 

(Trade Mark) 

By Annie Fellows Johnston 
Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume . $1.50 
--THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES 

(Trade Mark) 

Being three “ Little Colonel ” stories in the Cosy Corner 
Series, “ The Little Colonel,’’ “ Two Little Knights of 
Kentucky,” and “ The Giant Scissors,” in a single volume. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOUSE PARTY 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOLIDAYS 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HERO 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING- 

(Trade Mark) 

SCHOOL 

THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA 

(Trade Mark) 

. THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS 

(Trade Mark) 

VACATION 

'THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES 

(Trade Mark) 

RIDING 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHUM, MARY 

WARE (Trade Mark) 

MARY WARE IN TEXAS 
MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND 

These twelve volumeSy boxed as a seiy $1S.00. 

A— 9 


THE FAGE (JVMPANY^S 


SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS 

Each small quarto t cloth decorative f per volume . $1.35 

New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page 
drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL 

(Trade Mark) 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 
THE GIANT SCISSORS 
BIG BROTHER 

THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES 

Each small 16 mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece 

and decorative text borders, per volume $0.60 

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend 
OP Camelback Mountain. 

THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

KEEPING TRYST: A Tale op King Arthur’s 
Time. 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART 
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: 

A Fairy Play for Old and Young. 

THE JESTER’S SWORD 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES 
BOOK 

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series . $1.50 

Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold . 3.00 

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. ' 

A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may 
record the good times she has on decorated pages, and 
under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows John- 
ston.” — Buffalo Express, 

A— 10 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK- 
First Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . • $1.50 

A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. Each has several 
changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad 
for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK— 
Second Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . . . $1.50 

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only 
lovable Mary Ware, the Little Colonel's chum, but many 
another of the much loved characters which appear in 
the last three volumes of the famous “ Little Colonel 
Series.” 

ASA HOLMES 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 

16mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . . $1.00 

“ ‘ Asa Holmes ’ is the most delightful, most sympa- 
thetic and wholesome book that has been published in a 
long while.” — Boston Times. 

TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFERS HIGH- 
WAY 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With an introduction by Bliss Carman, and a frontis- 
piece by E. H. Garrett. 

12mo, cloth decorative $1.25 

“ Mrs. Johnston broadens her reputation with this book 
BO rich in the significance of common things.” — Boston 
Advertiser. 

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The book is a very clever handling of the greatest 
event in the history of the world.” — Rochester, N. Y 
Herald. 

A-ll 


TBE PAGE COMPANY'S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE ARMY 
SERIES 

By Florence Kimball Russel 

BORN TO THE BLUE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The story deserves warm commendation and genuine 
popularity.” — Army and Navy Register, 

IN WEST POINT GRAY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ One of the best books that deals with West Point.” — 
New York Sun. 

FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER. 
STRAPS 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The life of a cadet at West Point is portrayed very 
realistically.” — The Hartford Post, Hartford, Conn. 

DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL SERIES 

By Marion Ames Taggart 

Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume, $1.50 

THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL 

“A charming story of the ups and downs of the life 
of a dear little maid.” — The Churchman. 

SWEET NANCY:- The Further Adventures or 
THE Doctor’s Little Girl. 

. “Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence 
cannot but be elevating.” — New York Sun. 

NANCY, THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE PARTNER 

“ The jtory is sweet and fascinating, such as many 
girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy.” — Springfield Union. 

NANCY PORTER’S OPPORTUNITY 

“ Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young 
woman, with plenty of pluck.” — Boston Olobe. 

NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS 

“The story is ref reshing.”— York Sun, 

A— 12 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


WORKS OF EVALEEN STEIN 

THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Adelaide 

Everhart $1.25 

This story happened many hundreds of years ago in 
the quaint Flemish city of Bruges and concerns a little 
girl named Karen, who worked at lace-making with her 
aged grandmother. 

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and 
decorated in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . $1.25 

“ No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the 
elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as 
well as do the stories so admirably told by this author.’* 

— Louisville Daily Courier. 

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Diantha 

H. Marlowe ..$1.25 

“ The sto^ should be one of the influences in the life 
of every child to whom good stories can be made to 
appeal.” — Public Ledger. 

THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by John Goss $1.25 
“ This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth 
of interest coupled with enlivening descriptions of the 
country where its scenes are laid and of the people thereof.’* 

— Wilmington Every Evening. 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 

By Margaret R. Piper, author of “Sylvia Arden,” 
“ Sylvia of the Hill Top,” “ Sylvia Arden Decides,” etc. 
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy young 
folks, good times, natural development, and a gentle 
earnestness of general tone.” — The Christian Register, 
Boston, 

A— 13 


THE PAGE COM PANTS 


HISTORICAL BOOKS 

THE BOYS OF ’6l ; Or, Four Years of Fighting. 
By Charles Carleton Coffin. 

Extra Illustrated Edition. An entirely new edition, 
cloth decorative, 8vo, with nearly two hundred illus- 
trations ........ $9.00 

Regular Edition. Cloth decorative, 19mo, with eight 

illustrations $1.35 

A record of personal observation with the Army and 
Na\’y, from the Battle of Bull Run to the fall of Rich- 
mond. 

THE BOYS OF 1812; And Other Naval Heroes. 
By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth, 8vo, illustrated $2.00 

“ The book is full of stirring incidents and adven- 
tures.” — Boston Herald. 

THE SAILOR BOYS OF »6i 

By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth, 8vo, illustrated $2.00 

“ It is written with an enthusiasm that never allows 
the interest to slacken.” — The Call, Newark, N. J. 

BOYS OF FORT SCHUYLER 

By James Otis. 

' Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.25 
“ It is unquestionably one of the best historical Indian 
stories ever written.” — Boston Herald. 

FAMOUS WAR STORIES 

By Charles Carleton Coffin 
Each cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per voL, $1.25 

WINNING HIS WAY 

A story of a young soldier in the Civil War. 

MY DAYS AND NIGHTS ON THE BAT- 
TLEFIELD 

A story of the Battle of Bull Run and other battles in 
Kentucky, Tennessee, and on the Mississippi. 

FOLLOWING THE FLAG 

A story of the Army of the Potomac in the Civil War, 
A— U 


BOOKS FOR YOtTNO PEOPLE 


THE SANDMAN SERIES 

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 

per volume $1.50 

By William J. Hopkins 

THC SANDMAN l His Farm Stories. 

“ Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take 
the little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories 
will find this book a treasure.” — Cleveland Leader. 

THE SANDMAN: More Farm Stories. 

“ Children will call for these stories over and over 
again.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

THE SANDMAN; His Ship Stories. 

“ Little ones will understand and delight in the stories 
and their parents will read between the lines and recog- 
nize the poetic and artistic work of the author.” — 
Indianapolis News. 

THE SANDMAN; His Sea Stories. 

“ Once upon a time there was a man who knew little 
children and the kind of stories they liked, so he wrote 
four books of Sandman’s stories, all about the farm or 
the sea, and the brig Industry, and this book is one of 
them.” — Canadian Congregationalist. 

By Jenny Wallis 

THE SANDMAN ; His Songs and Rhymes. 

“ Here is a fine collection of poems for mothers and 
friends to use at the twilight hour. They are not of the 
soporific kind especially. They are wholesome reading 
when most wide-awake and of such a soothing and deli- 
cious flavor that they are welcome when the lights are 
low.” — Christian Intelligence. 

A— 15 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE SANDMAN SERIES 

(continued) 

By Harry W. Frees 

THE SANDMANi His Animal Stories. 

“They are written in a style that will appeal most 
strongly to children, and the promise of a Sandman 
story before retiring will be found an adequate relief to 
many a tired mother. The simplicity of the stories and 
the fascinating manner in which they are written make 
them an excellent night cap for the youngster who is 
easily excited into wakefulness.” — Pittsburgh Leader. 
THE SANDMAN: His Kittycat Stories. 

“ The Sandman is a wonderful fellow. First he told 
farm stories, then ship stories, then sea stories. And 
now he tells stories about the kittens and the fun they 
had in Kittycat Town. A strange thing about these 
kittens is the ability to talk, work and play like boys and 
girls, and that is why all of the little tots will like the 
Sandman’s book, which has thirty-two illustrations re- 
produced from photographs taken by the author.” — 
Pittsburgh Chronicle Telegraph. 

THE SANDMAN : His Bunny Stories. 

“ The whole book is filled with one tale after another 
and is narrated in such a pleasing manner as to reach 
the heart of every child.” — Common Sense, Chicago. 

By W. S. Phillips 
(El Comancho) 

THE SANDMAN : His Indian Stories. 

No Sandman is properly equipped without a fimd of 
iindian tales, for the lure of the feathered head-dress, 
the tomahawk and the wampum belt is irresistible to 
the small boy. The Indian tales for this Celebrated 
Series of Children’s Bedtime Stories have been written 
by a man who has Indian blood, who spent years of his 
life among the Redmen in one of the tribes of which 
he is an honored member and who is an expert inter- 
preter of the Indian viewpoint and a practised authority 
on all Indiana as well as a master teller Of tales; 

A— 16 


BOOKS FOB YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in 
tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover, 
per volume, 60 cents 

LIST OF TITLES 

By Col. F. A. Postnikov, Isaac Taylor 
Headland, LL. D., Edward C. 

Butler, etc. 


Our Little African Cousin 
Our Little Alaskan Cousin 
Our Little Arabian Cousin 
Our Little Argentine Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Australian Cousin 
Our Little Austrian Cousin 
Our Little Belgian Cousin 
Our Little Bohemian Cousin 
Our Little Boer Cousin 
Our Little Brazilian Cousin 
Our Little Bulgarian Cousin 
Our Little Canadian Cousin 
of the Maritime Provinces 
Our Little Chinese Cousin 
Our Little Cossack Cousin 
Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Danish Cousin 
Our Little Dutch Cousin 
Our Little Egyptian Cousin 
Our Little English Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little Finnish Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin 
Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Grecian Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
A— 17 


Our Little Hindu Cousin 
Our Little Hungarian Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Korean Cousin 
Our Little Malayan (Brown) 
Cousin 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 
Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Panama Cousin 
Our Little Persian Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Polish Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Portuguese Cousin 
Our Little Roumanian Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little Scotch Cousin 
Our Little Servian Cousin 
Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little Spanish Cousin 
Our Little Swedish Cousin 
Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


THE PAGE COMPANY* 8 


THE LITTLE COUSINS OF LONG 
AGO SERIES 

The volumes in this series describe the boys and girls 
of ancient times. 

Each small 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated 60c. 

OUR LITTLE ATHENIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By Julia Darkow Cowles. 


OUR LITTLE CARTHAGINIAN COUSIN 
OF LONG AGO 

By Clara V. Winlow. 


OUR LITTLE FRANKISH COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE MACEDONIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By J ULiA Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE NORMAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE ROMAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

our little SAXON COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE SPARTAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE VIKING COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Charles H. L. Johnston. 

IN PREPARATION 

OUR LITTLE CELTIC COUSIN OF LONG AGO 
A— 18 


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